


Sour Candy

by Aamalysstuff



Category: Yu-Gi-Oh! GX
Genre: Alternate Universe - Boarding School, Alternate Universe - High School, Alternate Universe - Roommates/Housemates, Emo Manjoume, Eventual Romance, First Kiss, First Meetings, First Time, Horny Teenagers, M/M, Maybe Regrets the Rammstein References, Or not, Self-Indulgent, Teen Angst, Teenage Drama, The Author Regrets Nothing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-12
Updated: 2020-11-12
Packaged: 2021-03-10 02:02:40
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 23,522
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27526564
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Aamalysstuff/pseuds/Aamalysstuff
Summary: It started like this :Manjoume Jun returned to Central Academy Boarding School after his summer vacation, only to find out that suddenly he had a had a roommate.Alternatively - Manjoume Jun is a young Emo and Yuki Judai is his Overly Perky Roommate.
Relationships: Manjoume Jun | Chazz Princeton/Yuuki Juudai | Jaden Yuki
Comments: 10
Kudos: 46





	Sour Candy

It started like this :

Manjoume Jun returned to Central Academy Boarding School after his summer vacation, only to find out that suddenly he had a had a roommate.

_A roommate._

Sure, the general rule was that absolutely everyone had a roommate, but he wasn’t just _everyone._ He was Manjoume Jun, he was _rich_ , both his brothers and his father and his uncles, hell – the entire male branch of the Manjoume clan – had been alumni of this academy. His father was friends with the Headmaster. It was only natural that he was allowed more freedom and privileges.

During his first year of high school, he had been allowed live by himself, and while there were two beds in the room he was allocated, it only meant that he had an extra surface to deposit his things on. It went without saying that he took over the whole room, it was _his_ space after all, he was entitled to use it as he pleased.

Only now, upon his return to the Academy, he was faced with the unpleasant reality of having to deal with a stranger’s things encroaching on what was rightfully his territory. Said stranger was already _there_ when he arrived – an extra bag on the hardwood floor, a red jacket just thrown on the bed, a pair of scruffy looking sneakers next to the door. And, most glaringly obvious, a whole entire _person_ sitting cross-legged on the bed, casually munching away on a bag of _whatever_ and seemingly unaware that he was trespassing.

For a second, he wasn’t really sure how he was supposed to react to this.

“Oh, hey there,” _unwanted stranger_ said, and waved a little hello. He got up from the bed, came right in front of Manjoume and held out his hand, “Name’s Yuki Judai. I guess I’m your new roommate, huh?”

His smile was already annoying. His voice was too perky. He had a Spider Man logo on his T-Shirt.

“Not for long, not if I can do anything about this.”

Majoume dropped his bag, turned around and left the other boy just standing there with his hand extended.

He wasn’t planning on sending any extra time in the company of someone that had been rudely thrusted into his space, so the only natural thing that he could do in this situation was to complain about it. He went to the Dorm Supervisor and was given a lengthy speech about it –

“I’m dreadfully sorry for the inconvenience, but yours was the only free room we could have put him in. After all, he is a new student here and everyone else already has a roommate.” That overly polite answer was not one he wanted to hear.

“I understand that, but I don’t _want_ him in my room.”

“I’m very sorry to hear that, but really there’s nothing we can do about it.” The Supervisor sighed and then turned to him with a bright grin, “Give co-habitation a chance, though, he might surprise you. You should try to be a good host and make him feel welcome, imagine that he could become your _best friend,_ Manjoume-kun.”

“It’s Manjoume- _san_ , and do look like I want to make him feel welcome?”

He should have known it would hopeless to try to deal with this by addressing the Dorm Supervisor. Clearly he needed someone of higher authority for this.

 _“Really, you got a roommate? It’s about time, Chosaku and I never got to a full year of being alone at the Academy.”_ On the other end of the call, Shoji laughed at him.

“You roomed with each other, that doesn’t count!”

“ _I would have preferred to room alone, he snores. So be grateful that for that._ ”

There was barely a year difference between his older brothers, so they had been sent to school at the same time. Meanwhile, Manjoume had to deal with all of this on his own, and brothers barely remembered how it was to be out of school because they were so much older than him.

“I don’t _want_ to room with him.”

_“And what, you can’t deal with it on your own?”_

“Apparently they have nowhere else to put him.” He was pacing the length of the corridor and throwing angry glares towards the door of his room, _his room,_ Goddamnit.

_“Well then, what do you do you expect me to do about it?”_

“Father is friends with the Headmaster, can’t you…?”

There was a laugh, mean and mocking, followed by a short remark.

_“You’ll have to talk to father yourself for that, Jun.”_

And with that, Shoji hung up on him, left him staring stupidly at his phone and with a newly formed coil of tension tightening in his chest.

Talk to Father.

 _Talk to Father_?

While it was easy to call his brothers or better yet, answer calls from him brothers, Father was something else. He was this imposing, serious figure that towered over his childhood memories. Always silent and gruff, always busy, Father was closed doors and Personal Assistants saying “ _Manjoume-Sama is unavailable_.”

Chosaku and Shoji scheduled meetings with him weeks in advance if they needed his support or anything. They weren’t supposed to just call, all of them knew better than that.

“ _Fuck_.”

Shoji might as well have told him, “ _I dare you to call Father with such a request_.”

The phone in his hand might as well have been laughing at him, daring him to make a fool of himself in front of his Father’s Personal Assistant, because his brother knew just as well as he did that their Father wouldn’t be picking up his own calls. Not even from him sons, much less from the son that was still in high school. Maybe once he got into Todai with flying colors, he could call Father and expect to be put through.

Manjoume sighed, crossed his arms over his chest and considered him options. He could try taking to the Dorm Supervisor. He could call either of his brothers, but that would be like admitting he didn’t have to balls to call Father. Suddenly even the idea of going to the Headmaster seemed like too much, considering his brothers would just accuse of him of throwing a fuss and being unable to handle something as basic as a damn roommate.

He could just imagine dinner between them, with his older brothers talking about how he couldn’t handle a minor inconvenience, how he was too spoiled for it, how his Mother…

 _Well_.

Manjoume made sure to cut that train of thought completely, choosing instead to focus on the still annoying, unwanted presence that was waiting for him back in his room. He couldn’t really call his brothers or his Father to pour out sixteen years of _whatever_ , so he closed his eyes and took a deep breath and started walking back towards the room, which anticipation and anxiety both building under his skin.

It wasn’t satisfying to be nasty to someone you barely met, you needed a bit more of a personal vendetta for things to truly pack a punch, _but_ considering the fact that Yuki Judai managed to be the root cause which turned Manjoume’s fragile inner peace upside down by merely existing, he instantly got an upgrade from “I don’t care” up to “I hope you choke on your candy.”

As a beautiful echo of his earlier thoughts, when Manjoume went back to the room, Judai was already back to working his steady way through a bag of colorful sweet. He was munching on them, too, it was the kind of candy with a hard shell because he could hear the way Judai’s teeth were grinding away at them.

Manjoume sat on his bed and openly glared, didn’t say anything as he was studying the other boy. How dare he, just sitting over there, eating in such a noisy manner, like he had absolutely no idea what kind of disturbance he had caused. As if to pour salt on the wound, Yuki Judai looked back at him and held out his bag of candy –

“Do you want one?” he offered, smiling with his bright white teeth and his eyes all shiny.

“I don’t eat sweets,” he sneered. “Candy’s for children, what am I? _Twelve_?”

 _Unwanted and unneeded obstacle_ just popped another candy in his mouth. He chewed deliberately while looking at Manjoume as if there was something wrong with _him._

“I see your problem. You’re so sour because you don’t have enough sweets in your life.” With that, he fished out a bright yellow candy and threw it at Manjoume. It was a testament of his excellent reflexes that he caught it before he got smacked in the face with it.  
  
“What’s this supposed to mean?” He demanded, feeling more and more annoyed with the absolute.

“D’aww, relax, grumpy. I’m just trying to sweeten you up.” Judai answered him with the sort of smile that needed sunglasses to be properly dealt with.

As it was, it had pretty much the same effect as sunlight had an Manjoume – it made deep, bright red flush spread over the bridge of his nose and made him hiss through snarled lips.

Judai laughed, and Manjoume threw the candy back at him. It hit him square in the chest, bounced in his lap.

“I hope you choke on your candy.”

“Neah, it’s not gonna happen. I can put ten of these in my mouth at the same time and swallow them.” Judai held grabbed a handful of sweets from the seemingly never-ending bag and held them out for Manjoume to inspect them.

He had no idea if he was supposed to be horrified or mildly impressed by this.

Clearly, it was going to be a long semester.

* * *

Manjoume _tried_.

Really.

Honest to God.

He really, really, _really_ tried to ignore Judai as a way to make life bearable for both of them. He tried to establish rules, he glowered, he yelled, he glared, he pouted, he huffed.

He went through several rolls of washi tape in a vague attempt to delimitate the space between them. They now had a barrier of brightly colorful tape with little chibis on it smack in the middle of the room, and it still wasn’t enough to keep Judai contained to _his side_.

Manjoume tried to keep him over _there_ so he could keep himself sane over _here_ , but Judai was too much. He was too noisy, he was noisy even when he wasn’t talking, his whole existence was noisy and it disturbed Manjoume, he messed up the aesthetic of the room which he established for himself. 

Judai just _spilled_ absolutely everywhere – there were pens and acrylic paints spread out on the desk, sketches and doodles done in bright colors and dark charcoal, various work-in-progresses everywhere. There was a comic book collection that shouldn’t have taken too much space, but somehow it did, it absolutely did.

 _Comic books_.

If it had been some good ole fashion shonen manga, he might have been more lenient with it. Shonen manga was the regular, vanilla brand of poor, childish taste, but at least it was local, and it was easy to get. Meanwhile, Judai’s brand of poor taste was _western comic books,_ somehow managing to go above and beyond the barrier of tacky and going straight to superheroes.

He didn’t even like one of the cooler ones. _Maybe_ Manjoume could have understood a passion for Batman. Bruce Wayne was objectively the best, simply because the Batman aesthetic was so visually appealing. Plus, Batman was dating Cat Woman, and his nemesis was the damn _Joker_. But _no_ , Judai couldn’t even get that right, he was a Marvel Fan. He liked Spider Man and Captain America, he had all these comics with their covers and illustrations in deeps red and blues, but some of them were so old they were close to falling apart.

There was a stack of those old comic books with the overly bright colors that he kept on the nightstand.

Manjoume was supposed to be reading one evening; he was sitting on the bed with his back pressed against the wall, he had his book in his lap and his earbuds were plugged in his ear, but he couldn’t concentrate for more than a couple of paragraphs until the words stopped making sense. Eventually, his gaze started slipping off the page and, as luck would have it, he would end up focusing on Judai – he supposed that, like with paintings and photography, you were naturally going to end up focusing on the other person that shared your space with you.

So it wasn’t _weird_ that he ended up looking at him in one of the rare moments in which Judai was silent and still and thumbing carefully through one those old comic books, eyes lingering on the lines and the colors more so than the speech-bubbles. He had wondered before, how many times can you end up reading a comic book to discover different meaning, but maybe he was looking at it wrong and it wasn’t about reading, but it was about the art and the movement and the colors. Subsequently, he found himself being annoyed with himself because he was attributing hidden depths to a roommate that never showed neither good taste, nor intelligence.

Manjoume kept wondering about him, though, because Manjoume was bored a lot and he needed to keep him mind busy, lest he fall too deep into territories that weren’t up to exploration. He wondered what sort of family had to produce an offspring like Yuki Judai, what sort of combination of manic energy and annoying habits blended together to create a person that insisted on offering Manjoume candy even after he kept telling him he didn’t like sweets.

There also the ongoing mystery about _how_ and _why_ Judai was also studying at the same prestigious boarding school as Manjoume. He didn’t seem particularly rich, if you were to judge by the kind of clothes he wore and the stuff he had. Plus, if he had been the son of some right mogul, Manjoume would have met him already or at least he would have heard about him. He had been dragged to a lot of formals and parties as he was growing up, he would have absolutely spotted someone like Judai in the crowd.

The possibility of Judai being some out of wedlock, scandal born child that had a rich father paying for his education with hush money was still a much more believable story than the possibility of him being here on a _scholarship_. Because Manjoume knew all about the scholarship students – they were studious things that kept their head down, their voice mild and they kept neat little notes of everything. They were the first in class and the last to get out of the library.

“Manjoume, can I get your notes for the last History course?”

“No, you cannot. Why don’t you have your own notes?”

“Don’t be so stingy about it, Manjoume.” Judai said, a big fake pout on his lips that turned into a grin before he added, “I don’t like history, so I wasn’t really paying attention.”

“You don’t like anything, you’re a damn slacker. How did you make it this far into your schooling?”

Manjoume was absolutely sure Judai wasn’t a scholarship student, he seemed to absolutely not care about school _at all_. His notes were full of doodles and drawings, to an extent that even Manjoume’s sloppy looking _kanji_ were an improvement to whatever Judai had. 

“It’s not my fault most of this stuff is just _so boring_.”

“You don’t _deserve_ my notes,”, Manjoumse countered. He was sitting on his at the desk, and a whole the incomprehensible scrawling on his history notes somehow got mixed in with Judai’s drawings and the vague sketches that were absentmindedly scribbled and strewn across their school materials.

“But what am I going to do for the test tomorrow?” Judai asked, and maybe this time the jutting lip and the shiny puppy eyes were genuine, but Manjoume wasn’t about to let himself get drawn in with such a cheap tactic.

“I have the same fucking test, even if I wanted to give you my notes – _which I don’t want to do anyways_ – I can’t, because I still need them. ”

For any other normal person that Manjoume had to deal with, this would be seen exactly for what it was, a refusal and an opportunity to back away into a corner and reconsider their actions. However, as it had been previously established, Judai was anything but a normal person. Instead of feeling ashamed for his lack of foresight and general lazy attitude, he just grinned. The previous puppy comparison was absolutely fitting, if he had ears they would have perked up. Manjoume was cat person.

“It’s okay, though, we can share them!” and with that, he pulled the other chair close to Manjoume and sat on it, forcing himself into right into Manjoume’s personal space bubble, looking over his shoulder so he could peak at the same damn notes.

“What are you doing?” There must be something wrong with his throat, because his voice was definitely higher pitched than he was expecting it to be. “You can’t just do that!”

It was early October, but it was an unusually warm October this year, so Judai was wearing one of his many TShirts with superhero logos, and his bare arm brushed against Manjoume’s. It took him by surprise and his spine instantly locked straight, shoulders tensing on instant.

“I’m just sitting here so we can share your notes, right? That way we can both study for the test and we can save on time.” Judai casually leaned over and plucked a piece of paper from under Manjoume’s nose. He looked at it, inspecting his hand writing with a critical eye, before he snorted an annoying little laugh. “Your handwriting it shit, Manjoume.”

“How dare you complain about my handwriting when you haven’t even bothered to take any notes?”

“Just saying, you should look into that _Caligraphy_ elective for next semester. ”

Manjoume threw a pen at him, though because they were sitting so close together it didn’t have the desired effect of smacking him. Instead of being chastised, Judai looked hopelessly amused, as if he was in on some great joke that went straight over Manjoume’s head. He felt his face heating up, feeling left out of whatever was going on, angry with himself for letting Judai _bother him_ so much. 

He decided he wasn’t going to engage in this stupid banter anymore, so as a respond he pulled his notes closer to him, in an effort to make it harder for Judai to see them. Instead, the other boy just strained his neck a bit more and started reading _over Manjoume’s shoulder, did he have no concept of personal space?_

“Say, Manjoume – ”

Judai put his hand on the desk, tanned fingers with bitten nails standing starkly against the white papers. At least he had the decency not to shout in Manjoume’s ear, as close as they were sitting to each other, his normal volume would have caused some serious damage.

‘’What do you want?”

He tried to keep focused and keep reading, eyes on the papers and following the scrawl of Kanji. His voice was short and terse, and Judai huffed an amused breath next to him.

“Well, if you’re so sour about it, I don’t want to ask you anymore, Manjoume.” And really though, he was speaking lower, his voice was less sharp, less grating like this, closer and lower and teasing.

‘’Fine. I don’t care, anyways, just pay attention and stop bothering me.”

But Judai whole existence was especially created to bother Manjoume, because even when they were supposed to be sharing the same tine desk space, he still managed to fidget, to move around, to _breathe_ too close to him. Judai inhaled through his nose and his whole chest swelled with it, Manjoume felt the movement of it, and then he exhaled through slightly parted lips. The stupid Spiderman T-shirt he was wearing smelled like laundry detergent and faintly of sweat, but Judai’s breath smelled like the fruity gummy bears he had been eating before.

The next day, they had their damn history test and Manjoume spent too much time looking at the paper, somehow realizing too late that even though he had read all the materials the night before, too little information actually managed to stick his brain. When the results came back, he was less than pleased with his performance, but Judai looked at him with a brightly beaming face and said,

“I got a better mark than I was expecting on this test! We should definitely study together again, Manjoume.”

“It was a onetime deal only. We’re not making a habit out this.”

But somehow it seemed like it wasn’t even Manjoume’s call anymore, because Judai had already made up his mind about it. If they had anything important to study for in the classes they both shared, Judai would wait for Manjoume to sit down at his desk and then he would simply pull out a chair and start reading over his shoulder.

Manjoume balled up pieces of paper and threw them at Judai, he used erasers and pen caps as projectiles so Judai would let him study in peace, but he was fighting a battle while the _invader_ had already declared himself entitled to – _what_?

He declared himself entitled to Manjoume’s space, and his sanity and his _notes_ , like Manjoume should accept him in every nook and cranny of his time. Judai pulled up his chair next too Manjoume like it was just a thing _he did_ , without even asking for permission anymore. Manjoume didn’t even notice when it stopped bothering him because he had become so used to Judai’s presence next to him when he was studying.

Then one evening, they were both sitting next to each other at the desk and Judai was bored, he wasn’t doing his usual thing of looking over Manjoume’s shoulder. Instead, Manjoume caught him as he started scribbling something on the edges of his English homework.

“Would you stop doing that?” without thinking about it, he put his hand over Judai’s to stop him from his procrastination.

That seemed to startle him out of the haze of boredom, big brown eyes turning to look at Manjoume like he was a deer caught in front of the headlights. It was really annoying that Judai’s face so expressive, because sometimes he made Manjoume feel bad about things he shouldn’t feel bad.

“Stop looking at me like _that_.”

“Like what?” Judai countered, _very witty,_ but Manjoume didn’t care enough to elaborate. He rolled his eyes and then realized suddenly where his hand was, how his fingers were wrapped around the pen that was still in Judai’s grip. How the plastic was warm from Judai’s hand, how their fingers were touching.

He pulled his hand back with a jerk, stared at that offending pen, at the warm fingers that were wrapped around it. He felt himself flushing and thought Judai’s bad habits of encroaching on his personal space were rubbing off on him.

“You’re so annoying.”

That earned him a chuckle. Judai eyelids lowered when he laughed like that and laughter bubbled from him too loud and too rumbly.

“You’re so funny, Manjoume.”

And there it was again, that feeling, like there was a joke between them that he was supposed to get and Judai thought Manjoume was supposed to be laughing with him.

* * *

Manjoume had his earbuds in, he was laying on the bed, he was contemplating whether he should try falling asleep or if he should try reading something. Judai still kept the desk lamp on, working on some sketches that he never he refused to show Manjoume.

Not that he wanted necessarily to see what his roommate was drawing, but it was strange that Judai was so careless with all his work and just left it lying around everywhere, and then he had sudden moments of secrecy when he would become weirdly protective of his work. It was strange. Made him _curious,_ like he wanted to peek over his shoulder and investigate, but that also meant getting out of bed, which was currently an unacceptable course of action.

He was so caught up in his train of thought that he missed the moment Judai got up from the desk and walked over to Manjoume’s bed. He sat down on the side of the bed and started talking – or at least, his lips were moving. Manjoume decided to ignore him, which was a good plan, but Judai decided to be an annoying little pest and plucked one of Manjoume’s earbuds out.

“Hey! Give that back!”

“No,” Judai said flatly, and stuck his tongue out. “You couldn’t hear me when I was talking to you.”

“That was the whole point of it, stupid. So that I wouldn’t have to hear you.”

“What are you listening to?” Judai asked as he put it the earplug in. He was sitting on the side of Manjoume’s bed, one leg folded underneath him, the soft fabric of his pajamas straining against his knee. It made his pant leg ride up a little, so his skinny, boney ankle was visible. Judai feet were bare, and his toes were wiggling against the wood floor.

He frowned at the music, trying to determine what he was actually listening to. Judai’s nose did this scrunchy little motion, a small line appearing between his brows like he was legitimately concentrating and focusing. Perish that thought, Yuki Judai _thinking_. 

“What language is this?”  
  
“It’s German, stupid. You wouldn’t understand.” Manjoume wanted to snatch back his earplug stolen earbud. One of them was still in his ear, the other was with Judai, and they were connected by the black cable that swayed between them.

“Heh, sounds very Angry. What’s it about?”

“Why should I tell you? You’re just bothering me again.” He raised himself up on his elbows and glared at Judai, but when the other boy turned to him and Manjoume really was getting too used to his presence invading his personal space, because instead of being angry at the closeness, his mind decided to focus on the splattering of freckles across Judai’s face.  
  
“Come one, you’re the one taking those fancy German classes, you should be able to tell me what the song is about.” His German wasn’t actually good enough to translate a song while they were listening to it, but he knew the lyrics well enough to explain it to Judai.

“It’s a song the King of the Winds. He sees a child that he likes, flying on a plane with his father, so he sends an army of spirits to steal him away.” He chewed on his lip while looking for the words for it. “It’s based on a poem, actually.”

“And? Do the spirits steal him away?” Judai asked, voice distracted but looking at Manjoume like he was waiting for the plot-twist.

“It’s German song, Judai. It’s based on _German Poetry_ – of course the spirits manage to steal him away, he dies in the process.”

Manjoume explained it to him, voice conveying the perfect balance between ‘ _god, you’re so stupid_ ’ and ‘ _god, I’m so cultured’._

Manjoume’s self-satisfaction was completely ruined the moment Judai started laughing, like really laughing, as if Rammstein and Goethe were things you were supposed to laugh about.

“Man, that’s so morbid. Do you really this sort of stuff or is it just the cool guy act you’re putting on?”

Judai was sitting on _his bed,_ so pushed him off, and Judai was still laughing as he tumbled forward.

“I’m not putting on an act, asshole. I don’t have to justify what I like to you. I could ask you the same thing about your damn comic books, why do you like your damn superheroes so much?”

Judai didn’t bother raising to his feet, he actually settled himself on the floor, laughter dying down. Manjoume was _so annoyed with him,_ but also with himself. He wanted to yell at him a bit more, but at Judai beat him too, starting to talk before Manjoume was even able to open his mouth.

“We moved around a lot when I was a kid and my parents both had really busy jobs. We couldn’t really keep a lot of stuff, though, so I had to keep myself entertained with things like that, you know…” But Manjoume didn’t, ”Consoles and computers are hard to carry in a car from place to place, boardgames take a lot of space. I needed something I could carry in my backpack.”

The confession was so honest and disarming that Manjoume’s anger lost its bite, the edges of it softened into curiosity and he wanted to press forward. 

“So why these in particular? Manga not good enough?”

Judai smiled at him in this strange way he smiled from time to time, with dimpled cheeks and lips relaxed, and he shrugged as if it was the most obvious thing in the world.

“I guess I just liked the art-style.”

That was so fitting, though, and it was absolutely obvious, given everything he knew about the other boy until now. He should have been satisfied with that, could have left it as it was. Put his earbuds back in and keep using his music as a distraction against the onslaught of tiny annoyances. Maybe it would have worked to cut off the conversation like that, maybe Judai would let him.

But…

_But._

There was something the room between them, like darkness had made Judai’s voice softer, like there was an exchange of that was supposed to happen. It was only fair for him to put down a card of his own, to meet Judai’s tiny bit of knowledge with something of his own.

“My mother lives in Berlin.” He said suddenly, aiming for nonchalance and congratulating himself on how natural it sounded. “She’s a fan of them – this band. Last time I saw her...”

Last time he got the change to visit his mother was three years ago. He remembered her apartment in Mitte and how she had a whole collection of LPs with beautiful artwork on them, how they looked cool and dark and forbidden and _just cool_ , her _Rammstein_ LPs and _The Cure_ and _Bauhaus,_ Mother with her ripped jeans that were splattered by paint because she had 15 different canvases she was working on at the same time.

“She likes listening to them as she works.” He shrugged and laid down on the pillow, stared at the ceiling and didn’t start his iPod. He heard Judai moving from where he was laying down on the floor, the silence between marked by breathing and fidgeting and…

“Berlin’s really far away, Manjoume.”

It was 14 hours by plane, without considering time spent in the airport.

“Yeah.”

He didn’t say anything more to that. When Judai got up from the floor to started looking for something on his side of the room, Manjoume was left feeling awfully exposed, like he wanted to hide his face in the pillows and never face Judai ever again, but moving meant acknowledging that something was wrong. His felt his something coiling around his chest, but it gave away and suddenly unfurled when Judai came back on the edge of his bed. Manjoume looked at him, took in the line of his back and the way his spine curved forward, how sat down with a leg folded under himself. He felt his eyebrows frowning, forehead wrinkling and his nose scrunching, unable to figure out why Judai came back, what he was doing there, what he should expect as the next movement.

“What do you want?”

Judai shrugged and opened up a box of Pocky. He took out one of the chocolate covered biscuits and put it in his mouth, started chewing on it as he held them out to Manjoume too.

“Want one?”

Any other time, anything else, and his answer would have been a hard _no_. Tonight though, he wanted something to do with his mouth that didn’t involve talking, so he took one of those things and started nibbling on the chocolate.

Judai picked up the other earbud, the one that he had previously so rudely stollen, and Manjoume should have at least half-heartedly fight him for it, but he thought – if he was indulging in sweets, he might as well allow Judai to indulge in his music.

Judai was scrolling through his selection of songs, probably looking for one that he recognized. He listened to the opening beats of a lot of them and deemed them unsatisfactory and Manjoume tried not to feel insulted by it.

Finally, Judai reached a song and ten second passed, then twenty, then thirty, and the song was deemed worthy of listening to, it seemed.

“Huh, I actually really like this one. Not all of it is as angry and edgy, so I guess there’s hope for you yet, Manjoume.”

“You’ve just don’t know what’s good,” Manjoumed took another Pocky stick from Judai’s pack and laid down on the bed. His mind was trying to make sense of the sounds though, this was really confusing mix of them, how with one ear he was hearing crunchy pocky being bitten off and chewed, Judai’s humming along with the song they were both listening to and the other ear was listening to _The Cure_ while they were counting off moods for every day of the week.

* * *

They ended up sitting side by side in the library by accident, rather than design. Manjoume had already been there and Judai just came over and did what he did best – just sort of assume that it was alright to sit next to him here too. There was no place for him to be safe anymore, Judai overly cheerful presence and his damn perky attitude following him seemingly everywhere. 

So it went like this – Manjoume was just _sitting there,_ stewing miserably with his pile of books and notes and his eyes and brain hurting from all the boring information about the Renaissance he was forced to read. He didn’t really understand where Professor’s Chronos hard-on for the period came from, but it was nothing sort of barbaric that he insisted all their essay have a comprehensive list of sources cited at the end.

Normally, you can get away with a lot of half-assed things when it came to citing sources on essays, but only if the teacher was willing to look the other way when they were grading. Unfortunately, their comparatively literature teacher was not willing to give them any sort of leniency when it came to then. He wanted them to read books, _actual books_ , the books that were available in the library, and he seemed like he knew exactly what was written in each of them. This meant that simultaneously everyone seemed to need the same damn source materials and the librarian refused to give them out.

Manjoume had picked his topic, picked his books, started taking notes and a couple of hours in, he found himself with unwanted company.

“What are you doing here?” His voice _might_ have been a bit too much, because his question was followed by a wave of _shushes_ from all directions.

“Wow, _rude_ , Manjoume. We’re at the library. People are trying to study here.” Judai’s grin was so infuriatingly smug, combined with the feigned innocence of the big puppy eyes and the teasing tone. He plopped down in the chair next to him and Manjoume wondered if it would be considered disruptive to throw a pen-cap at him.

“I’m _not_ giving you any notes on this.” 

“Again, _rude_ , I didn’t even say anything about that.” But really, Manjoume didn’t buy that, because while he didn’t especially _enjoy_ spending time in the library either, Judai had never voluntarily set foot in there if he could help it.

But really, he wasn’t especially keen on dealing with Judai at the moment – he already had a headache, his eyes were stinging from all the boring reading, he was suddenly very acutely aware that his stomach wasn’t feeling all that well either. Like there was something fluttering in his ribcage, dropping and somersaulting, like he swallowed hot coals and now warmth was spreading there without him knowing what do to about it.

He made a mental note to buy himself some antacids, as this was becoming a recurrent problem.

Manjoume started gathering up his things. He didn’t want to write essays about Renaissance Italy anymore, he wanted to put some damn distance between himself and Yuki Judai’s disruptive presence.

However, it was clear that luck wasn’t on his side today, because as soon as he started to push himself up for where he was sitting, Judai’s hand shot up and caught him by the wrist.

“Wait, don’t leave.”

Not by the sleeve of his sweater, not by the material of his clothes, by the _wrist –_ warm fingers wrapped themselves firmly around his wrist, without even hesitating, like it was only natural to do so, like Judai did it on instinct and his instinct was to help himself to Manjoume’s attention with no regards to how it was obtained.

“Don’t tell me what to do,” but he couldn’t bring himself to look at Judai face while he was saying that, he was too caught up with the pressure against his skin. Didn’t this guy know that it was weird do to stuff like that?

Judai’s fingers were perpetually stained with charcoal from whatever he was working on, and he left his dirty little fingertips on Manjoume’s books and on his homework and his notes. Now he had those same fingers wrapped around his wrist and Manjoume imagined pulling his hand away and breaking free from the contact, only to find that Judai’s fingers left a mark there.

“Geez, I just wanted to sit with you. You’ve been _avoiding_ me and we’re roommates, it’s kinda hard to avoid roommates, Manjoume.”

Judai was looking at him with those shiny shoujo manga eyes of his and Manjoume was absolutely hated it. Judai looked at him as if he was _hurt_ by Manjoume’s behavior, like avoiding him for a couple of days was the moral equivalent of hitting puppies and stealing candy from babies. He wasn’t supposed to feel guilty for avoiding someone for the sake of his own sanity, but here was Yuki Judai, effectively shaming into guilt simply by making eye contact.

“Let go of me.”

And Judai let go of him, surprising Manjoume by showing that he did have at some vague respect for his personal boundaries, though it was hidden somewhere deep inside.

“I thought the two of us were friends.” Judai said at him with all that stupid, earnest confusion on his face, “You know, I _would_ apologize for whatever got you upset, but I can’t figure out what I did wrong.” 

Manjoume huffed an angry breath, picked up his stuff and left, because he didn’t want to be subjected to more of the guilt-trip. Judai was acting as if there had to be a _reason_ for the sudden avoidance, but the reality was that over the past few days, ever since their midnight Pocky sharing conversation, Manjoume just _felt_ like being around Judai for an extended period of time would be damaging for his mental health. _More damaging_ than it already was.

After that night, he had woken up too early in the morning and started at the ceiling for an extended period of time, breathing in and out slowly and trying not to think too much about anything at all. He had glanced over at Judai, sleeping peacefully and undisturbed in the bed next to his, and he had gotten too caught up in staring at the rise and fall of his chest, the way he inhaled through his nose and exhaled in soft puff of air through his parted lips, how his eyelids twitched during his sleep.

Judai had the whole art of sleeping perfected down to T, he was so proficient at falling asleep _everywhere,_ with his head on his hands on the desk or sprawled out without a care on the bed. He just looked so _comfortable_ , like there was absolutely nothing wrong in the world, and just to drive Manjoume’s point home even further, Judai had chosen that exact moment to turn on his side and burrow further in the pillow. For a second, Manjoume’s breath had caught in his chest, afraid that Judai’s eyelashes would flutter awake and he would look at Manjoume with his sleepy shiny eyes and he would be caught staring at him like a creepy creep that _stares at least people in their sleep._

Luckily for it, Judai’s breath stayed even, his eyes stayed closed and Manjoume had been left there with his heart pounding against chest, his face burning red and his mind absolutely _blank._

Last night they are shared a box of Pocky and Manjoume had _told Judai about his mother,_ like something had possessed him to share something of himself with the sleeping idiot and now the sleeping idiot was just – _there,_ sleeping without a care in the world and almost causing Manjoume a damn heart attack because he couldn’t stop staring.

Their fingers had touched while picking out chocolate covered sticks out of Pocky box and it had felt different than all the other times Judai offered him sweets, like something had changed in the air between them, and each time their fingers brushed against each other was a confirmation of that fact.

Days later and Manjoume was still not ready to properly poke at the complicated knot of s _tuff and things_ that was making a mess of his ability to focus.

And Judai was fine.

Judai seemed like he was absolutely fine.

Well, truth be told, Manjoume had absolutely spend the past few days doing his very best to avoid Judai, avoid looking at Judai, avoid thinking too much about Judai.

He _seemed_ fine, which was infuriating.

Manjoume wanted to walk up to him and shake him, like seriously, _How Dare You, Yuki Judai?_

He would have felt infinitely better if Judai gave off any sort of weird vibe, but he was so unapologetically, shamelessly himself, like he was completely unaffected by anything while Manjoume was…- _what?_

Still thought – avoiding Judai was also giving off the impression that he was a running away from something, which he _wasn’t, he really wasn’t,_ but it was making Judai think he was a coward. Manjoume was not a coward and he resolved to fix that impression as soon as possible.

Instead of going to hide somewhere until late at night, he decided to go back to their room and wait for Judai there. Which he did, he did absolutely that, went back to the room they both shared and waited for him there, anticipation building in his stomach and readying him for any potential conflict that might arise. While Manjoume knew that Judai wasn’t really the type to fight with him, the possibility of having a good old screaming match was _so enticing._

So Manjoume just sat there building up a whole angry rant in his head, like he was already picturing Judai’s face when he would tell him once again what an annoying little pest he was, and hopefully make the point stick this time. His list of complaints kept getting longer and longer, ranging from Judai’s impossibility to stick to his side of the room, his disregard of the tape barrier and the established rules of the room, the way he never woke up at the sound of his own alarm clock and sometimes relied on Manjoume to shake him awake in the morning.

Added to that, there was the fact that he insisted crowding Manjoume whenever they shared desk space, and read over his shoulder and just _breathed across his face_ because he was sitting too damn close to him. That was absolutely the worst, Manjoume’s grades actually took a bit of a hit because he was unable to concentrate while he constantly had to deal with a five foot seven distraction that wore superhero tshirts.

He was _angry,_ and it kept growing and growing, a lot of self-righteous indignation about it. However, Judai kept making himself missed, like he was just too good to come back and deal with Manjoume. _Asshole_.

But another hour passed and Manjoume was still alone, alternating between lying on the bed to staring at the ceiling and pacing around the room, because – where the hell was he, anyways? What the fuck as Judai even doing in his spare time? Who was he hanging out with? Because clearly he wasn’t just going to believe that _Judai_ out of all people spent his time studying in the library.

Plus, he knew enough about Judai to say that the other boy was that annoying kind that grew on you like pesky mold, he was always _talking_ so he was definitely spending his time with _someone_.

He hadn’t really thought about it before – who Judai was spending his free time with wasn’t something Manjoume cared about – but now this particular pesky train of thought entered his mind and it overtook all other elements.

There was a sudden tightness which pulled at his chest at that – not a new feeling, but the sensation of it was sharper, quicker and it refused to let go of him.

When Judai eventually came back to their room, Manjoume was sitting on his bed with back pressed against the wall. Judai burst into the room like he had been rushing and the door made a loud noise that startled him so badly that at least half thoughts in his head were completely eradicated.

The whole perfectly constructed rant Manjoume had prepared just whooshed away from him in a second. Instead, what came out of his mouth was,

“Where the fuck were you? I’ve been waiting for you and you just disappeared, what’s wrong with you? It’s so rude to keep someone waiting!”

Judai just stared at him, blinking at him like Manjoume had grown a second head in the time they didn’t see each other, confused and taken off guard.

“You were waiting for me?”

“Yes, you idiot. Why should I even bother talking to you anymore? it’s like talking to a brick wall. Clearly I’ve been wasting my time, while you…”

He closed his mouth so fast he almost heard his own jaw snap shut. He had a bad case of motormouth sometimes, and this was one of those circumstance in which things just fell of his tongue. However, suddenly Manjoume was so painfully, acutely aware of everything he had said, and he felt himself heating up with a fierce embarrassment.

Meanwhile, Judai damn well squinted at him, head turning to the side like he was evaluating the different colors of blush which were spreading over Manjoume’s face. He wanted to look away, but that might as well be an admission to fucking up, which was too much for his already bruised ego.

“Sho was right.” Judai proclaimed, crossing the room in 3 big steps, only to plop down next to Manjoume on the bed.

“Who the hell’s Sho?”

Judai completely ignored his questions, he only grinned at him and leaned his weight on his arm.

“He said you act like _such a girl_.” And with that, he poked Manjoume in the ribs, making him yelp and straighten. Before he could complain about it, Judai did it again and it was impossible to hold in the huff of laughter that followed.

When he realized what was happening, he tried to put his arms around himself and shimmy away. 

“No, no, stop _that_. Get away from me.”

But the damage was already done, he could see it on Judai face, on the mischievous curve of his lips and the amused excitement in his eyes.

“Manjoume, are you ticklish?” it was a question in which every word was mercilessly punctuated with relentless jabs against his sides, a dirty fucking tactic that he wasn’t prepared to fight against.

“Stop it, stop it, _stop it_.”

God, he wanted to strangle him, if only he _could,_ he was laughing too hard and he struggling to get away, but he only achieved in losing his very fragile balance and falling across the bed.

“Say, _Judai, you are great and amazing_ ”

There were tears in his eyes from the laughing and his chest hurt…

“You _bastard,”_

…but he also felt lighter than he had in ages, and Judai…

“Say, _Judai, I was mean to you for no reason, because you did nothing wrong._ ”

…Judai was also laughing, fuck, he was such a little asshole about this, Manjoume was laughing so hard it was impossible to get anything out.

“Say you forgive me.”

And with that, Judai suddenly stopped tickling him, and Manjoume was allowed to breathe again properly, even though he was panting and still struggling against the pressure in his chest. He opened his eyes only to be met with Judai’s eyes that were too soft and looking at him in a way he had no idea how to pinpoint. He wanted to look away, but couldn’t, and Judai moved closer to him, just a little bit, he left the bed shift as he leaned over,

“Hey, say you forgive me.” Judai’s voice was so serious, though, and a little bit unsure, which was just strange. Manjoume had no idea how he was supposed to deal with this Judai that looked at him like _that_ and then used _that_ voice…

There was a shift in the air between them, and he was so hyperaware of everything now, like the way in which his shirt was riding up, how close they were to each other, how it was still hard to breath, but only because his chest and his stomach were doing that drop, that pain, hot drop which knocked the wits out of him. 

“You didn’t apologize, stupid,” his voice sounded like it wasn’t his own, too breathless and too low and he wanted to look away, but didn’t.

Judai just kept _staring,_ as if he could look at Manjoume long enough just to figure out what was happening inside his head. He probably should have asked him what the hell his whole deal _was_ , but Judai being this serious was something that had never happened before, and it threw him off his rhythm so hard that Manjoume’s head was absolutely spinning.

There was a point in which he thought, maybe, he was supposed to hold him breath for _something_ , for a shift, for a change, a drop, but the magic was broken when Judai chuckled, shaking his head.

The rumbly, bubbly sound of chuckles made warmth spread through him, starting from the pit of his stomach and down to his fingertips, like that one time when his older brothers thought it would be hilarious to let him have sake on an empty stomach.

“I’ve never seen you laugh like that before. You’re all _red_ and just…” The way he trailed off was so awkward, and Manjoume wanted to just bury his face in the pillow and die there.

“Well, I don’t laugh because I don’t have anything to laugh about. You’re not funny enough.”

Judai shrugged with one shoulder and the laid down on the bed next to Manjoume. The mattress shifted as Judai turned to his side and put his head right on the pillow next to Manjoume’s head. He tried really hard to focus on looking at the ceiling, not look at the boy that was sitting so close to him that he could feel body heat radiating in the place they weren’t touching.

And Manjoume was so aware that they _weren’t_ touching, he was aware of all the ways in which any small movement would shift the bed in a way that would bring them together.

“Hey, Manjoume.” Judai’s voice was _so_ breathy and amused, a puff of air around his name. “Look at me.”

“What do you want?”

He didn’t get any immediate answer, which was strange enough that it him turn his head to the side.

It was a _bad_ choice.

Judai was just _there_ , and the freckles on his face was fascinating to look at. He didn’t say anything, but he just shook his head, and grinned, cheeks dimpled and teeth straight, seemingly happy and content to just lay there.

“I knew you couldn’t keep up the act _too_ long.”

And with that he leaned forward slightly, just a little bit, a just enough to bump his forehead against Manjoume’s.

There was precisely half a second in which Manjoume couldn’t breathe.

His eyes widened and his first impulse was to jerk away, heart hammering in his chest and face burning, flight instincts all fully activated and feeling like the whole damn world had just tipped off its damn axis. Unfortunately, he was on the side with the wall, so jerking away from Judai meant knocking his head squarely against the wall.

“ _Shit, ow_.”

“Oh my God, are you okay?”

“Fuck, you startled me!”

“I’m sorry!”

The fact that Judai was laughing his damn ass off determined that was a damn lie.

Embarrassment was a new state of being, fully overwhelming.

Alaska was close to Japan. It was mostly empty. He could hide there until the memory of this past.

“It’s okay, let me check it out…” and then he had Judai’s hand on his hair, cupping the back of his head, pressing his fingers against his skull like he was looking out of bumps or bruises.

The only thing that was bumped and bruised was his ego, but the attention was careful, and it felt….nice. It felt nice, surprisingly so. He wanted to close his eyes and just enjoy it, thinking this might be what cats experienced whenever you petted their head.

Outside the closed door of their dorm room, there were the regular dorm room sounds of students walking around and talking, a whole mess of noise that was filtered until it became static.

He didn’t want to think about what this whole mess of something was supposed to be or what was supposed to happen. There was a voice in his head that was shouting, but Manjoume absolutely stuffed a damn sock in it, because he didn’t want to hear it, he didn’t want to think it, he didn’t want to put words to feelings and tie them together, because then it would be –

Not real, not yet, because it wasn’t going to ever leave the confines of his brain, but if he put words to it then it would just grow somewhere in the back of his head like vines, until he couldn’t ignore it anymore.

So there was nothing to think about and there was nothing either of them were supposed to do, no special way in which they were supposed to act towards each other.

The realization of that was freeing.

Manjoume felt the hot, tight feeling in his chest, that one hot pesky weight he had been trying to shrug for the whole day - well, it was that feeling that finally loosened, evaporated, and he could finally breathe again.

Judai’s fingers dragged across his scalp and his sighed.

There was about half a second of hesitation after that, the fingers stopped and Manjoume wondered if the moment had passed, that _nothing_ was tip-tapping too close to the edge of becoming _something_. Judai, though, he seemed to have made up his mind about it and continued to run his hands through Manjoume’s hair.

They stayed exactly like that for a long time, neither of them moving, the moment dragging on between them until Judai’s phone started ringing loudly.

The other boy scrambled off the bed, hurrying to answer it and seemingly surprised to find parents on the end of the line.

“Oh, Mom, you _know,_ school’s boring, but that’s the same old story, and….”

He started babbling excitedly into the phone and pacing around the room, gesticulating wildly while he was talking. Manjoume followed him with his eyes, feeling still too lazy to get out of bed.

Then while Judai was still talking to his mother on the phone, he suddenly turned to stick his tongue out to Majoume, all playful and childish. It made him blush, and then he got annoyed at himself for blushing, so he turned around with his face towards the wall and a huff on his lips.

But he was also glad, because it meant nothing had changed and nothing had to change between then either.

* * *

There was nothing between them, so there was nothing to discuss and nothing to address. They just _were_ – dancing around certain topic, even as their fingers brushed each other while they were exchanging pencils and papers. Manjoume was telling himself he wasn’t looking at Judai while he was drawing.

They worked out a rhythm -

Early morning, Manjoume would wake up earlier and get ready for school, and he would take his time with it and listen to the soft snores and content puffs of breath that Judai made while he was sleeping. Then, Judai alarm would go off uselessly, Manjoume would just look at him while he buried his head further into the pillow and pulled the covers over himself. It was childish, but at the same time it was also oddly endearing, so Manjoume would be smilling as he shook Judai awake and yelled at him to get ready for class.

During the classes they shared, Judai dozed off as Manjoume sometimes kicked him under the table to startle him awake, and then when he wasn’t dozing off he was doodling or he was making face at Manjoume and completely failed at takng notes. Sometimes, if he was truly feeling heinous, Judai sat next to Manjoume and he randomly poked him in the ribs while he was concentrated on something. That invariably made him jump and yelp, and it was always followed by him turning bright red and embarrassed while the teacher scolded him and Judai looked over at him through half-lidded lashes, smugness, mischievousness and self-satisfaction glowing in the curve of his mouth and the light in his brown eyes.

Majoume had German as an elective, while Judai went to his Art classes. He came back to the room with his fingers all dirty and sometimes he had paint splatters over his jeans and his TShirt. Judai carried around with him that smell of oil paint and charcoal, a blend of ashy and woody and chemicals that was so damn familiar. Sometimes he sat next to Manjoume just like that, and he was conditioned now to associate that smell with late evenings and sitting too close to each other.

They sat next to each other at the desk, both of them complaining over the numbers and the Kanji and the sheer incomprehensible nature of Chemistry that Daitokuji-Sensei still struggled to explain to them.

Then, sometimes Judai complained that his back hurt, he went and laid down on one of the beds and asked Manjoume to read to him, “ _Read out loud, it helps me concentrate_ ”.

Judai made fun of him that he liked the sound of his own voice too much, but Manjoume sometimes thought _Judai_ might like the sound of his voice too. The other explanation was that Judai was just too damn lazy to read by himself – that was also definitely a possibility, so most likely the reality of it laid somewhere in between. Maybe Manjoume had a secret potential for becoming a voice actor, or maybe Judai just didn’t like having a big void of silence between them.

Sometimes they sat next to each other on one of the beds, with their backs pressed to the wall, Manjoume with a book in his lap and Judai with his sketch book, each of them with an earbud and listening to Manjoume’s iPod playlist on shuffle. Some songs were still deemed too edgy and angry for Judai, but he at least warming up to the sound of Rammstein, so Manjoume was considering that as a success.

Judai refused to wear any socks, so his bare toes were always on display, wiggling excitedly like they were there to make it easier to gauge Judai’s mood, like he wasn’t already a damn puppy when it came how he showed his emotions. Sometimes their feet brushed against each other and Manjoume felt how cold his toes were against the fuzzy socks he refused to be without.

“One of these days, your toes are gonna get frostbite and fall over.” Manjoume said one day, and Judai countered it bit pressing his ice cold toes against Manjoume’s bare calf, right underneath the edge of his pajama bottoms.

“D’aww, Manjoume, look at you. You’re all red again,” and Judai pressed a finger against Majoume’s face, where his cheek was all splotchy and red.

“You bastard, what’s wrong with you?” He jerked away from Judai and threw himself on the bed face-forward, pressing his face in the pillow and showing Judai his back. “I can’t believe the sort of embarrassing shit you pull sometimes.”

“I think it’s cute.” And he said it so matter-of-factly that Manjoume wanted to kick him all over again, so he didn’t feel like he should deny himself. There was a slightly pained _ooph_ from Judai when Manjoume’s foot connected with him.

“You deserve that.”

“You try so hard, but it’s useless.” Judai’s laughter was annoying enough to make him turn to throw a glare over his shoulder, “I can’t buy the tough guy act when you get all blushy-blushy at the slightest poke.” Judai grabbed him by the ankle and forced him to stop kicking.

“I don’t _blush,_ I _flush_. Girls blush, I’m get red when I’m angry, it’s a natural response to being close to you.”

“That’s a fancy way to say I make you flustered, Manjoume.”

His knee-jerk reaction was to yell at him, but then he looked at Judai and they made eye-contact. Judai smile was warm and inviting, and Manjoume was struck dumb at how much he enjoyed the sight of it. Judai’s hand was still on his ankle, his thumb was rubbing soothing circles across the bony ankle peaking above his sock.

When he couldn’t stand it anymore, he looked away and tried to break himself out of the spell. He was too weak though, because he kept glancing back at Judai, he couldn’t tear himself completely from his and his stupid shoujo eyes that Manjoume couldn’t help but appreciate.

“Hey, Manjoume?” It was such an innocent thing, but the way Judai said his name sometimes made things tug in his chest. It was the tone and the lilt of it, it was soft and low and breathy and rolled around his mouth like a secret. 

“What do you want?” he was chewing on his lower, and he didn’t want to look at Judai but he didn’t want to look like he was a coward either. Manjoume frowned, brow and nose all scrunched up, wearing his tense expression as a means of protection while he met Judai’s gaze head on.

“I think I...” Whatever Judai wanted to say, he stopped right in the middle of it. He looked at Manjoume and then giggled awkwardly, avoiding his gaze and shaking his head like he was debating with himself was he was supposed to say afterward.

Judai scratched the back of his head and he said, “You know what I want? I think I wanna get something to eat. Do you wanna get something to eat? I think we need some snacks, do I have anything?”

And with that, Judai almost stumbled over himself as he was struggling to get off the bed. He picked up his backpack, pulled out a back of Shrimp Chips from it and proceeded to stuff a fistful of chips in his mouth, like he needed to keep his jaw occupied with something that wasn’t talking.

Manjoume looked at him as he was stuffing his mouth full of chips and pointedly not making eyes contact. He raised an eyebrow at the frankly baffling behavior that his roommate was exhibiting.

“You’re being _so weird_.” His statement was followed by a mix of sounds, nervous laughter and intense coughing, because apparently Judai was trying to kill himself via chocking on chips.

* * *

Days started getting colder, and shorter, and colder, and shorter. It was getting harder and harder to get out of bed too, because their room was cold and Manjoume woke up in the morning and wanted to sink deeper into the warm, comforting sanctuary of his pile of blankets.

He looked over at Judai bed and saw his bare toes sticking out from under the blankets and felt himself shiver in sympathy. While Manjoume had taken to sweaters, thermal socks and scarves, Judai seemed like he was completely immune to the cold. Their walk from the dorm to school was usually horrendous for Manjoume, who felt like the tip of his nose would freeze over and fall sometimes.

Winter Holiday was also fast approaching, and Manjoume wasn’t all that excited about going back home for the break. Going back home was always An Event, with a limo arriving to get him and a _Welcome Home_ dinner organized, even though it was only a means for his brothers to interrogate him about his time spent at school. Given their previously established family dynamic, things would inevitably be awkward and tense.

One would expect he was used to it after so many years. The truth was he still learning how to deal with it.

Meanwhile, Judai babbled at him excitedly about the possibility of snow, about winter holidays and treats, about how cool it was to see your breath fog over in front of you. Judai’s cheeks were all ruddy, he looked healthy and happy and Manjoume was just a little bit jealous of how easy it was for him to get excited about things

When it did eventually start snowing sometimes in early December, he took one look out the window and seriously considered skipping class to just stay inside. For the first time in their acquaintance, Judai had been the one to forcefully pull back the covers and drag him out of bed.

“It’s the first snow of the year, no way you’re missing out on it.”

“I absolutely hate the snow; I hate the cold and I hate you. Leave me _alone_.”

“But Manjoume, you’ll break your flawless attendance record.” Judai’s voice was teasing and amused, but it had the desired effect on him. He got dressed and grumbled his way outside, spent the majority of his day complaining about how terrible it was that they were getting snow early this year.

When he had to walk across the courtyard so he could get from one building to the other, the snow crunched underneath his boots and snowflakes caught in his eyelashes. Judai took advantage of Manjoume’s momentary lapse in judgement, so he walked up behind him and pushed a handful of snow underneath his sweater.

“ _Fuck_.”

Judai laughed followed.

Manjoume wanted to yell at him, but there was thick, melting sludge running down the back of his throat, running cold across his spine and making him shiver.

“Judai, you stupid…Oh my god, get it _out_.”

But there was a snowball melting across his back, soaking his undershirt and his sweater.

“Come on, Manjoume, it’s just a little bit of snow.” Judai laughing face was insulting, he was enraging, he was so _so_ annoying and clearly he had no perception of what proper behavior was, so Manjoume’s response had to be just as juvenile.

He grabbed his own handful of snow – _no gloves, shit, his fingers were already freezing_ – and rubbed into Judai’s face. It only made the idiot giggle harder, though, so that just made him decided to start pummeling Judai with as much snow as possible.

It ended up being a true and proper fight in the snow, in which Manjoume ended up tumbling into it headfirst, but at least he got to pull Judai along with him. It wasn’t really clear which one of them won, but Manjoume had snow in his hair and he wanted to punch Judai in face for it.

“I absolutely fucking hate you.” He turned around and started walking back to the dorm, Judai following after him even though he was unwanted.

“Come _on,_ Manjoume, you don’t _hate me._ Maybe you occasionally dislike the fact that I mess with your hair.”

There was snow clinging to his clothes, there was a wet patch on his back where his sweater was clinging to his skin.

“I told you to leave me alone. God, I hate the cold, I hate snow,” he wanted to shut the door to their room in Judai face, but the bastard sneaked inside before he had the chance to. “Now I’m so fucking cold, the room isn’t even properly heated for this,” He took off his coat and threw it on the chair. With the amount of snow clinging to it, it was going to be all soaked in a couple of minutes. “I hate _you_.” He repeated again, rubbing his hands together so he could warm them up.

He glared at Judai with as much anger as he could muster even as melting snow started to drip from his dark hair and his skin was prickled from the cold..

“Heh, I guess I deserve that,” Judai shrugged out of his coat too and took a step closer to Manjoume, and another one, and another one.

“Damn right, you do,” He wanted to pull his arms closer to himself, but Judai grabbed his wrists before he could. His hands were so much warmer than Manjoume’s, Judai radiated warmth even when he shouldn’t.

There was tension tightening around Manjoume’s spine now, he felt it vibrating there while Judai bowed his head slightly and blew hot air over his cold digits. The hands that had been gripping his wrists loosened slightly, Judai splayed his fingers over the back of Manjoume’s palms, pushed them closer together and rubbed together so they would warm up faster.

Manjoume just….– he was… – _what_?

Warmth was something that came from within.

“Better?” Judai asked him with a grin, still too close and too warm and too much, his hand still holding Manjoume’s and his eyes too big and too soft and. And.

Manjoume’s heart hurt, but in a good way, and his cheeks were burning, and his mind was absolutely blank, by design and intention.

He swallowed drily and looked Judai in the eye.

“I’m still cold,” he answered, his voice shaking and unsure.

“Here, let me just…” one of Judai’s hands pulled him closer by the wrist, the other reached behing Manjoume and pressed against the nape of his neck.

Manjoume sucked in a breath through his teeth and closed his eyes tightly. Judai’s fingers pushed underneath the collar of sweater, beneath the soaked material which clung wetly to his skin. He rubbed warm fingertips against the bump of vertebrae.

He was _so_ close, Manjoume could feel his breath against his mouth, he felt it when Judai stopped breathing too. The hand holding his wrist was tightening and loosening, the fingers against the nape of his neck were a gentle, shaky touch.

He bit was chewing on his bottom lip and opened one eyes to peak at Judai. Bad idea, though, he felt his heart seize in his chest at the sight of him.

The problem with Judai was that his face was too open, his eyes were too disarming, he looked at you and you knew exactly what he was thinking about. Or what he _wasn’t_ thinking about. It meant that when Judai moved closer to him, Manjoume was already expecting it, jaw tense and heart hammering and ready to jump out of his skin.

Judai’ forehead bumped into his, and he nudged their noses together. It surprised him, so he jumped slightly, his pulse jumped too, Judai’s finger cupped the back of his head and ran through is snow wet hair.

Their lips weren’t touching, they weren’t, they _weren’t_ , but they could be, if either one of them moved half an inch more.

Neither of them did, but for the first time, Manjoume let that thought form inside his head. It floated up into his consciousness, traitorous and loud and hot, it had stewed somewhere in the corners of his mind for weeks, until it finally wouldn’t let itself get smothered anymore.

Maybe it showed on his face, the panic, the want, the fright, the _please kiss me_ and the _let me go._ Whatever hesitation it was, Judai saw it. He pulled back just enough so Manjoume could breathe again.

There was half a step between them, and Manjoume was looking at wall behind Judai, unable to look at him directly because it was too dangerous to do to so.

“Your hair is wet.” Judai said, like he was nervous about what Manjoume would say.

“It’s your fault.”

A chuckle here, sounding relieved at how naturally they fell right back into their rhythm.

“Yeah – I’m….”

“ _Don’t_.”

Judai raised his hands in mock surrender, and God, now that Manjoume thought about kissing him was ever going to think about anything else? His laughter was so inviting and Manjoume suddenly wanted to feel it against his mouth.

“You’re right, yeah, I’m not sorry at all.” And with that he turned around and left, he went to the bathroom, had the audacity to leave Manjoume there with his head a mess and thoughts scattered and his fingers shaking.

There was the sudden, intense realization that he was in complete, total and absolute shit, way over his head and overwhelmed. Suddenly, winter break couldn’t come fast enough. 

* * *

Once Manjoume thought about kissing Judai, he really had to struggle to think about anything else. It was all a minefield now, because he saw all these opportunities in which it would be so easy to just bridge the distance between them and press his mouth against Judai’s. So easy.

Early morning, when Judai still was asleep, Manjoume imagined bending over him and waking him up with a kiss. He would wait for Judai to blink sleepily at him and smirk and then kiss him again, all smooth and cool like in a movie.

He imagined it would also be pretty easy to do it while they were both studying at the same desk – sometimes when their fingers would brush against each other, he could grab Judai by the hand pull him closer. Or when Judai was reading over his shoulder, struggling to make sense of Manjoume’s sloppy looking Kanji, he could turn his head to the side and just brush his lips against his face

In Manjoume’s fantasy for a first kiss, he always portrayed himself as the smooth, cool type that would be able to pull of that sort of shit without turning into a flustered mess – the embarrassing reality was that he couldn’t even properly look at Judai anymore. Ever since he started thinking about kissing him, even looking at Judai in the face was difficult to accomplish without feeling like all his thoughts were written across his face with big bold letters.

It also wasn’t any of that smooth, sexy _I want to kiss you and you can’t resist me._

He was fucking tongue tied and spluttering, looking for anything to keep himself occupied. Suddenly he started talking too much and too fast. He started snacking right along Judai, because if his mouth was occupied with chewing it was pretty damn hard to give himself away as the absolute sap that apparently turned into every time they were in the same room.

And they were in the same room all the damn time, Manjoume felt like _dying,_ he was condemned to this cruel fate of pining like the girl Judai accused him of being.

At least it wasn’t something he had to endure for long – he was going home for the winter Holiday tomorrow, so he only had around 24 hours of pain to endure. Maybe Manjoume would have a little bit of luck for the first time in ever, and spending time with his family would be enough to bleach his brain dry of all thoughts and feelings regarding The Potential Situation of Kissing Yuki Judai.

“So you’re going home tomorrow, huh?”

“My brother is sending his assistant and a driver to pick me up tomorrow, yes.”

“Wow, so that’s how rich people live.” Judai laughed and plopped down on the bed next to Manjoume, “Meanwhile, I need to take the train.”

“Stop complaining and just help me out with this”

Manjoume was struggling to rip through the plastic wrapped around his mother’s package. She always shipped things to him during the winter season.

International shipping took a long time, needed multiple layers of plastic to ensure it was packed correctly and it had a whole list of restrictions on what you could or could not send. However, getting packages from his Mother was always exciting and Manjoume looked forward to the few times a year that it happened.

Opening the cardboard box was always an event, even though he had a good idea of what was going to be nestled inside.

“What did you get?” Judai asked, curious and peeking inside the box just as Manjoume was unpacking it.

Inside, there was a whole assortment of chocolates and gummies. Marzipan and liquorice, Mozart chocolates and pralines, a whole lot stack of big Lindt bars, the hefty kind with milk and nuts that were hard to find in Japan. 

“I thought you said you didn’t like sweets!” Judai said accusingly.

Manjoume scoffed at him, but he picked up a bag of Salty liquorice and offered some to Judai. He looked really closely at the excitement on his face while he reached into the bag, pulled out one of the black confectionaries and popped into his mouth. The excitement instantly turned betrayal, his whole face turning sour as he spit the remains of it into his hand.

“What the hell was that?” Manjoume was too busy cackling to answer him. “Gah, that’s not candy, what the hell is that?”

“God, Judai, stop being such a baby. It’s _European._ ”

“It’s poisonous.”

“It’s _an acquired taste._ ”

“You just wanted to torture me with it.”

Manjoume himself wasn’t much of a fan of liquorice, but his mother always sent it over because it was so hard to find in Japan and it was one of the things, she enjoyed munching on it. Maybe she thought it reminded him of her, to keep unopened bags of liquorice around until he had the chance to throw them at unsuspecting folk that had no idea what salty liquorice was all about.

Still thought, the one liquorice trap wasn’t enough to deter Judai from attacking the mountain of sweets that Mother had sent over.

“A lot of this stuff is looks so fancy, I don’t think I’ve ever seen some of this stuff.”

“She usually sends all sort of candy and chocolate. What else are you supposed to send during the holiday?” He shrugged and picked up a box of Domino Squares out of the package. “I have enough money to buy myself whatever I want.”

Mother never knew what she was supposed to send him – they saw each other rarely, he was too old for toys, anything breakable was out of the question. She sent him chocolate, and candy, all those German brands that were hard to find in Japan and that kind of chocolate that she always had around the house in the rare instances he got to visit her.

There was the unspoken rule he had, like a pact between himself and the packages that came every now and then – she sent pretty much the same things every time, and the rule was that he never bought it for himself, rarely ate any other kinds of sweets except the ones his mom sent.

Last year, he got a box just like this one right before the winter Holidays, and he came went back home with his bag stuffed with chocolate. This time around, though, he opened the box of chocolate covered marzipan treats and offered them to Judai.

The other boy eyed him warily at first, but it once he took a bite out of the little square candy, he a look of pure joy and pleasure overtook him. Judai closed his eyes to chew on it, and that was more respect and care than he ever put into eating anything – normally food just disappeared inside the bottomless pit that was Yuki Judai’s appetite, but in this case, he was carefully chewing it as if to savor the taste and texture of it. There was even a little moan of pleasure after he swallowed.

“God, these are great.” He reached out to take another one and Manjoume couldn’t find it in himself to scold him for it.

“Wait, try one of these, too.” Manjoume said as he threw one of the red Mozart balls at Judai. 

He wasn’t overly fond of the pistachio marzipan that stuck to your teeth and the roof of your mouth. It was too sweet and too rich for him to ever eat more than one, but Judai seemed to absolutely adore them.

“Oh my God, what else do you have there?”

It was a huge box, really, and it was full of sweets. Last year, it took about 3 months until Manjoume made a dent in it.

This time, he let Judai pick things out and spread them on Manjoume’s bed between them. They opened up tins of gingerbread and biscuits to test them out, bags of foil-covered Lindt pralines and sour gummy worms.

They ended up laying next to each other on Manjoume’s tiny bed, with a whole lot of candy wrappers between them. Their fingers touched whenever they reached into various bags and boxes of treats, they shared the pillow space between them and spoke to each other in hushed, whispered voice.

At some point, Manjoume dozed off as Judai was explaining the plot of _House of M_ to him. Judai voice was excited, happy and breezy and soothing and warm, and Manjoume closed his eyes and completely ignored what he was saying, focused instead on feeling the words coiling around him. He felt lazy, and sleepy and comfortable, so it was the easiest thing in the world to just fall asleep with Judai babbling next to him.

When Manjoume woke up, it was early morning, before his alarm went off, before the sun fully rose. The soft light of the rising run was starting to peak through their window, and Manjoume blinked the sleep out of his eyes only to see that Judai was already awake.

“Hey.” Judai said, smiling sheepishly.

“Hello?” Manjoume’s voice was rough from sleep and confusion.

They were both on their sides, facing each other, knees bumping, and ankles crossed together.

Judai’s got this look on his face, all frowned brow and determination, biting at his lower lip as his hand rose slowly, ever so slowly, so he could place his palm against Manjoume’s cheek.

Manjoume’s heart was doing strange things in his chest.

“I want to kiss you.” Judai said quickly, and then he sucked in a surprised breath, like the words had fallen out of his mouth without him having any control over them. His eyes were wide and scared for a second until he smiled and added, “Can I kiss you?”

Judai ran a finger over Manjoume’s lips.

“I like your mouth, and I’ve been thinking…” he let out an incredulous puff of air, “I want to kiss you. Can I? Let me kiss you,” Judai finger was drawing the contour of Manjoume’s mouth, the tip of his tongue running over his bottom lip, “ _Please_?” he added, as an afterthought.

Manjoume couldn’t breathe.

“ _Yes_ ,” he answered, breathless and hurried, before he had the chance to think about it.

“ _Really_?” Judai’s eyes widened, “Okay, I didn’t expect that. Let me just…”

“Oh my God, I’ve changed my mind…”

“No, wait, I...”

Judai’s fingers caught in his hair and tightened, not enough to hurt, but enough to surprise him into shutting up. He was sitting very still and his heart was hammering wildly against his ribcage. Manjoume couldn’t move, couldn’t talk, couldn’t breathe, because Judai’s fingers were fisted in his hair and Judai’s face was so close to his and Judai’s mouth was just _there_ , he felt breath against his lips, and oh my god, they were really doing this, huh? No turning back after this.

There was half an inch of distance and neither of them were moving. Judai’s eyes were wide open, and so were his.

“Don’t freak out,” Judai whispered, as a reassurance to both of them.

Judai moved forward and crashed their lips together with too much force, as if they just stumbled into one another and had to figure out how to deal with this accident. It didn’t matter thought, because his whole body was tingling with the sensation of it and his stomach was turning itself inside out.

He had no idea what to do with his hands.

He had no idea what to do with his mouth either.

Was he supposed to close his eyes?

When Judai pulled away from him, his hand was still cradling the back of Manjoume’s head, like he could keep him in place. It was probably a smart to thing to do, considering the fact that Manjoume wanted desperately to jerk away and possibly crash through the wall behind him.

“Are you freaking out?” Judai asked him, voice slightly higher in pitch than he was used to hearing it.

“I’m _not_ freaking out; you sound like you’re the one freaking out.” Manjoume countered, though he was definitely feeling a little bit lightheaded.

“Honestly, _yeah,”_ Judai laughed, and he felt it against his mouth, “A bit.”

Manjoume’s eyes were drawn to his lips, his gaze followed the tip of Judai’s tongue as he ran it across his bottom lip and he instinctively mirrored the action.

“Do you wanna try again?”

“Yeah,” Judai answered, moving closer to him with his whole body, until they were chest to chest and Manjoume had to put his palms against Judai’s shoulders, “ _yeah_ , I do.” Manjoume had enough time to suck in a sharp mouthful of air before their lips met again.

It was better this time, more gentle and their teeth didn’t click together. Judai’s mouth moved against his. The wet slide of their lips against one another was surprisingly pleasant – Manjoume’s eyelashes fluttered closed and he sighed, something loosened in his chest and started spreading warmth through his veins.

This time, when they broke the kiss, Judai pulled Manjoume’s head forward and pressed their foreheads together.

“Better?”

Their noses rubbed against each other.

“Yeah.”

Judai’s lips ghosted over the side of his mouth.

“Can I…?”

Something in Manjoume’s chest rumbled pleasantly.

“Yeah.”

This time when they kissed, it felt like his body was ready for it, like all these little nerve endings he had no idea existed were suddenly all coming alive. The hand that had cradled his skull moved to his neck, Judai’s fingers were resting against his pulse point and Manjoume wondered if he could feel how fast his heart was pumping blood, how excitement and wonder were making him vibrate.

Judai moved from kissing his lips, to kissing the side of his mouth, to kissing his cheek and the shell of his ear.

Manjoume found himself with his back against the mattress and Judai peppering kisses across his face and his jaw. The hand on his throat pushed against the underside of his jaw, his head was pushed back so Judai could press his open mouth against his Adam’s apple.

It felt good – tingled pleasantly and it made him arch against Judai, like he wanted to pull him closer, _closer_.

“Judai, I….”

“Hey. Let me…” there was a whiny sound of displeasure that came out of Manjoume’s mouth when Judai stopped lavishing attention to the sensitive skin of his throat, “I wanna try something.”

“What?”

Judai grabbed his chin and made them look at each other – the eye contact was too intimate, but Manjoume wasn’t going to be the one breaking the connection. Judai looked at him too earnestly and he felt himself glowing brightly with embarrassment.

“What do you want?” He demanded, and when Judai grinned at him, he averted his eyes.

“You’re so…”

Whatever Judai wanted to say, he thought better of it. Instead, he shook his head and grinned wider, playful and happy and Manjoume felt his breath catch in his chest at the sight of it. Judai leaned over him and gave him a quick peck on the lips, before he whispered…

_“Open your mouth for me.”_

The request sent a shock of heat through him and he complied instantly, lips opening, mouth pliant. Judai smiled and pressed in, the tip of his tongue licking across Manjoume’s lips, dipping between, tasting inside and running across his teeth. Manjoume’s arms went around Judai’s shoulders, his fingers tightened in the fabric of his shirt.

Having Judai’s tongue in his mouth should have felt stranger than it was – it was definitely odd, but not _unpleasant,_ even though the idea of having a wet, slimly muscle wiggling around his mouth shouldn’t have been as appealing as it the reality of it was. It felt exciting, though, naughty and taboo in the same way that touching himself did, but it was shared. This was sharing a secret and a part of himself with someone else.

“I’ve never kissed anyone before.” Judai said, as they settled back against the pillow.

His breath was shaky, mouth was all red and wet, and he was running a finger against his lip like he wasn’t exactly sure what had just happened between them. Manjoume could relate to the feeling, his mouth was still tingling, and he couldn’t stop himself for running his tongue over his lips. He thought he could still feel Judai’s over his. 

“It was really fun, though.” Judai’s hand found his and he laced their fingers together like it was the most natural thing in the world.

Manjoume stared at their hands and tried to process what was happening. He was still struggling to process the kissing, the _kissing with tongue,_ the way his body had melted underneath the attention – but the interlaced fingers, the palms pressing against each other, the casual way Judai did it, _that_ officially made his head spin. There was a physical reality to it that he couldn’t blame on hormones or lack of judgement.

Judai squeezed his palm firmly, pulling him out of his tiny moment of internal panic. Manjoume found himself looking at these big worried brown eyes, like Judai was struggling to look into the inside of his head and gauge his reaction.

“Manjoume?”

“Stop looking at me like that!”

“I can’t help it!” Judai shot back, and then both of them were staring at the bedding to avoid looking at each other, “I liked kissing you, and I thought you liked it too, but now you’re all gloomy and not saying anything, so I’m wondering if it was just fun for me? What if you freak out and bump your head again, Manjoume? I’d never forgive myself!”

“Goddamnit, Judai, you’re so _stupid._ ” He leaned forward and pressed his forehead against Judai’s shoulder. “I don’t wanna talk about this.”

“Okay?” Judai said, cautiously, and he started running an open hand over Manjoume’s curved back. The movement was slow and soothing, and Manjoume felt himself relaxing into it.

He was in that sleepy, content sort of state that followed either intense physical activity or intense anxiety. Manjoume closed his eyes and started dozing off just like that, while Judai was holding his hand and caressing his back. He worked very hard on keeping his mind blank, completely and absolutely wiped clean of any thoughts.

However, considering that luck was completely and utterly _not on his side_ , it was exactly then that the alarm on his phone started blaring. Judai jumped at the sound of it and he hit snooze, but as he got out of bed a variety of candy wrappers spilled along the floor.

It felt like a spell had been broken, like the little parallel universe had existed in for the past hour was fizzling away and Manjoume dreaded the idea of crawling out of bed and having to face the outside world.

“Well, I guess we should…”

Judai completely ignored him. Before he even for the chance to sit up, Judai threw himself on the bed and put a hand over Manjoume, effectively pinning him in down.

“What are you doing?”

“It’s the last day before winter holiday. Most people already went home.”

“Yeah, but we’re still _here_.”

Judai grinned at him

“Yeah, but we can stay _here.”_

That sound entirely too appealing for Manjoume, and suddenly the weight of Judai’s arm across his body and his proximity made him blush. The warmth radiating from Judai was inviting and Manjoume wanted to sink into it.

“I’m leaving today.”

“I know. What time will they be here?” Judai smiled and snuggled deeper into the pillow, aware that he had won this battle with very little resistance. It was only a matter of negotiating the terms.

“Later,” Manjoume shrugged, aware that he was letting himself get tempted into skipping school much to easily, but at the same time, there was an undeniable appeal to this situation.

Judai grinned at him and got closer, slow and sure, he gave Manjoume all the time in the world to pull away from him if he so desired.

“Hey, Manjoume?”

“What?”

“I’m going to kiss you again, alright?”

Judai didn’t give him to answer after that, he pressed forward and took advantage of Manjoume’s open mouth and the gasping breath he took as their lips touched.

* * *

Kissing, kissing, kissing, _kissing_ ,

It was all lips sliding against each other and tongues licking and tasting and Judai sucking kisses against the side of his neck so he could stare at how the skin changed color.

“Fuck, _stop that_ ,”

Manjoume elbowed him in the stomach, but Judai was undeterred. He pulled the collar of Manjoume’s shirt lower so he could have access to more of his skin, he started leaving hickies against the dips of his collarbones.

“I can’t help it, it’s _so_ …” He pressed his fingers against the wet skin, pushed against the red marks on Manjoume’s throat until it made him gasp, “…Fun.”

“Would you please behave? I don’t want to wear turtlenecks for the whole time Holiday.”

“You always wear turtlenecks, that’s the Manjoume look.” Judai said, with a grin that had too many teeth and a whole lot of confidence. There was a spark in his eyes that spoke of _A Plan_ and that Manjoume should definitely be afraid.

His pajama shirt was the kind that had buttons. Buttons, just boring old buttons, and he wasn’t expecting Judai’s fingers to push between the overlapping folds of material between them. He got goosebumps everywhere when he felt the touch against his skin.

“What are you doing?”

Judai shrugged as he ran a fingernail over skin he couldn’t see and the way the cotton of his shirt dragged against his pebbled nipples made him bite his tongue. He never thought it would be so hot to feel the drag of fabric against him.

“Let me open this up.”

“ _What_?”

Judai ran a thumb across the little pearly buttons on his pajama top.

“It’s not like I haven’t seen you shirtless before, but I…” Manjoume was convinced that Judai was completely and utterly shameless, because he could say stuff like that without turning beet red, “…well. You said I shouldn’t leave anymore marks on your _neck_ , which is fine, because there’s a lot of space _below_ your neck, but it’s all covered by your shirt.” Judai fisted a hand in Manjoume’s shirt and pulled at it as it to make a point. “So let me open it.”

“That’s the most awkward proposition I’ve ever heard in my life. If you want to… _undress_ me, can’t you at least make it sound a bit better?” He was very proud that he kept his voice very steadily annoyed throughout that.

“Has anyone ever asked you to undress for this sort of thing before?” Judai countered. Whether it was supposed to be teasing or a genuine question, Manjoume wasn’t sure.

“Well, _no_ , but…”

“Then you have no idea how I’m supposed to ask for it properly, right?”

“That’s not the _point_.” Manjoume closed his eyes and put his hands over his face. He couldn’t look at the earnest confusion on Judai’s face and actually get his functioning braincells to commit to something.

“Am I not being romantic enough about it?”

Manjoume groaned, feeling actual, physical pain at how much he was cringing.

“Judai, shut _up_.” He turned around with his face towards the wall, showing Judai his back.

“Don’t be like that, Manjoume, come _on._ ” Judai wasn’t the kind that let himself deterred by something so minor as Manjoume’s pouting. Instead of letting him sulk, Judai followed him and bracketed his body around Manjoume’s back.

He tensed all over when he felt Judai’s warmth seeping into his back – he felt how they were touching all over, the backs of his knees, his thighs, Judai’s arm across his waist and his nose against the shell of his ear.

“It’s fine if you don’t want to. If you’re upset with me, I’m really, _really_ sorry. I didn’t mean to sound pushy.”

He sighed, realizing just how out of their depths both him and Judai really were about how to navigate this entire situation they had found themselves in. He didn’t want Judai to leave him alone, but Manjoume could help but feel overly exposed whenever Judai looked at him too deeply. The combination of Judai looking at him, asking for permission to undress him, how casually and plainly he asked for intimacy and closeness…

Manjoume forced himself to relax and grabbed Judai’s wrist. What the other boy hadn’t realized was that Manjoume would have let him undress him, but _saying it_ was something that couldn’t possibly spit out. He pulled Judai’s hand closer and put it against the fastenings of his shirt. There was a sharp intake of breath behind him, and Judai’s fingernail racked against the button.

“Manjoume, can I…?”

“Please stop asking me things, you idiot, _just_ ….”

Judai, at least, wasn’t stupid enough to question that as well. He started popping the buttons one by one, his face still buried in the crook of Manjoume’s neck, his open mouth sucking kisses and nipping at it, and wasn’t the point of undressing him so Judai _wouldn’t_ leave anymore hickies on his neck?

He moaned and pushed himself against Judai’s chest. When he felt his shirt was completely opened, when Judai pulled it over his shoulder so his mouth could freely abuse more of Manjoume’s skin, when he felt Judai’s fingers against his bare skin…

“Hey, can you turn around?” Judai put his open palm against his shoulder and gently pushed at him.

He resisted simply because didn’t want Judai to think this was all he had to do to get Manjoume to do something. He needed a bit more coaxing than _that,_ lest Judai started to think he was suddenly easy. If Judai believed he could get Manjoume to do stuff just because they kissed a couple of time, he was _wrong._

Judai kissed the nape of his neck, the skin behind his ear, made him shudder all over.

“ _Please_ turn around? I want to see your face.”

“Well, it’s a very good face, I can’t blame you for wanting to see it.” And with that that, he turned around, because Judai had been good enough about it to say please, because he wanted to kiss more, because he wanted Judai to kiss him all over.

Judai was grinning at him and he barely turned around when he was already attacked, mouth against his and tongue already poking between his lips. He ran is fingers down Manjoume’s chest, like he was entitled to exploring all this newly exposed skin.

Kisses started getting peppered one down his jaw, down his throat, over his collarbone, lower. Judai closed his teeth around one of his nipples and it made Manjoume gasp. 

“You’re so sensitive, oh my god. You make all these _sounds~_ ”

Judai sounded like he was so damn happy and excited about it, he was running his tongue over Manjoume’s ribs and nibbling on his skin.

“Fuck, that _tickles_ , Judai.”

“But is it unpleasant?” Judai asked, and Manjoume felt his lips forming the words against his skin, ghosting across the dips and bumps of his body.

Unpleasant? No, it was the opposite of that.

The attention made him feel good, the way Judai touched him was explorative, but undemanding, his fingers were gentle and he felt comfortable, excited, he wanted Judai to…. _what_? He didn’t want to think about what he wanted.

Judai sprawled on top of him, he put his chin against the center of Manjoume’s chest and looked at him with all these emotions that Manjoume couldn’t name, didn’t want to name, shouldn’t name either. He was all bright eyes and contentment, like he was so damn happy and comfortable sitting together like this.

“Tell me a secret.”

“What the hell, Judai? You have really terrible timing for conversation.”

“But I’m serious!” his voice sounded whiny and overdramatic, but Judai couldn’t really pull it off so he ended up giggling instead. Laughter vibrated his body. “I want you to tell me something about you. Something that no one else knows.”

They were so close, Judai pressed his cheek against Manjoume’s chest and he wanted to say, _This is a secret._ The idea of pulling this moment out into the world outside their bedroom was ludicrous and impossible to comprehend.

Manjoume closed his eyes and took a deep breath. His body was reacting to Judai’s proximity in ways that he should have expected, but he wasn’t ready to deal with yet. That would be too much, too overwhelming, too personal. 

“You first.”

“When I was a kid, I had an imaginary friend. ” Judai told him, his voice barely a whisper. “Their name was Yubel and they were half dragon”

“Only half dragon? Lame, what about the other half?” Manjoume rolled his eyes, seemingly unimpressed, but Judai reacted by biting into his nipple. “ _Ouch_ ”

“You’re being an asshole. I was telling you something about my childhood.” But Judai was laughing, and he soon he started poking at Manjoume’s ribs to tickle him.

“Stop it, stop it, _stop it.”_ Judai pressed his mouth against his side and blew raspberries on his skin. It tickled differently, it made him laugh but it also made warmth bubble all over inside him. He tried to push Judai off of him, but he was laughing, his coordination was poor, and the attempt was half-hearted at best.

“Oh, no, you’re not getting away from me that easily.” And with that, Judai grabbed his wrists and pushed them into the mattress.

His laughter died down, but he found himself looking up at Judai, who was still holding him by the wrists and _looming_ above him. It made Manjoume’s heart stutter, because Judai might have looked half a dragon himself, too intense and a bit hungry and looking at Manjoume as if he was ready to eat him.

“Your turn.” Judai’s voice was breathy and rough, like he laughed too much, like his throat was dry and tight. For some reason, something about it made a hot bubble of rumble inside him.

He felt all caught and cornered and he had no idea if he wanted Judai to let him go or pounce on him.

He blurted the first thing he that came into his head.

“I actually really like Batman.”

Judai’s burst of laughter was loud enough to shake both of them and he fell over Manjoume in a fit of giggle. He hid his face in the crook of Manjoume’s neck, hot puffs of air from his chuckles.

“Batman’s _cool_.” Manjoume added, wondering just _how_ insulted he should feel that Judai was laughing so fiercely.

“Yeah, yeah, he is.” There was a wet kiss pressed against the side of jaw. “Hey Manjoume?”

“What?”

“I like you.”

And with that his mind shut down, blue screened, a black void spreading inside. At the same time, his chest constricted, and his lungs hurt.

Throughout the whole morning, here had been several moments in which he wanted to run away and hide. None as strong as this one.

Realistically speaking, they had also spent most of the morning doing – _things._ Judai left all sort of marks on him and had shown great enthusiasm about sucking on his tongue and biting his nipples. It didn’t take a genius to realize that Judai _liked_ him.

 _Like-liked_ him, like the cute little _Kohais_ confessed liking the cool _Senpais_ , only they were born in the same month and a 30 days difference did not a proper Senpai make. (It still counted in Manjoume’s favor though.)

So yeah, Judai liked him. That much was obvious. Manjoume was going to spend the whole of winter break hiding evidence of it.

But did he really have to say _it_?

Was he expecting Manjoume to say it _back_?

Hell _no_ , he’d rather chew his own arm off than admit to something so embarrassing in front of this stupid little dweeb that somehow managed to throw him so completely off-balance his gravity center struggled to keep him straight.

Well.

Straight was a matter of perspective.

“I guess you’re not gonna say it back at this point, huh?”

“Not if my life depended on it. Plus, who says I like you?”

Judai sighed, but he sounded much to entertained for Manjoume’s comfort.

“Pfff, I’ll ask again later, then. You have to defrost at _some point._ ” 

* * *

Going back home for the Winter Vacation was always an _experience._

By this point in his life, he spent more time away at boarding school than he ever had at home, so in a way, he felt less comfortable sleeping in his big bed with the memory foam mattress than he did sleeping in the same room with Judai.

Judai. Judai.

Damn that Yuki Judai.

He had to be extra careful to wear high neck sweaters and turtlenecks, wrap himself in various scarves because his neck was a mess of kiss bites and bruises, all of them shaped like Judai’s mouth. He almost _died_ every time someone commented on his choice of dress, and whenever he managed to get back to his room lay down on the bed, his hand instinctively went to his neck.

He had looked at himself in the mirror enough time to know where the marks were, had memorized the random pattern of purple that was scattered over his collarbones and chest.

They were still bruises, so Manjoume had expected them to hurt when he pressed his fingers against them. Nothing happened, it was just discolored skin, it did _feel_ different, but he kept poking at them because….because….

Maybe he wished they did hurt, because the idea of Judai’s affection leaving a lingering sensation on his skin, something he could relive whenever he pressed his fingers against those marks…it was hot. Hot in a way that made him want to cross his legs and rub his thighs together, hot like _that_ , like _I want more_ but _more_ was a nebulous concept that Manjoume refused to touch. Couldn’t, wouldn’t, shouldn’t.

Instead, he spent his time making a conscious choice to not think about it, and drown out his thoughts by listening to _Serios Conversations_ between his brothers and the occasional eavesdropping when one of them got an important phone-call.

Still though, his brothers were at work most of the time, they had girlfriends they visited. His Father left before breakfast and rarely came back for dinner.

It wasn’t new, neither was being alone in a big mansion that was full of servants you never actually got to _see_ , but just because he was used to it didn’t meant he enjoyed it.

Then, one morning, he went downstairs for breakfast and he realized he was all completely alone in the dining room – it was by no means unheard of for this to happen, but this time his mood was… _strange_. He didn’t feel like sitting down for breakfast, so he grabbed one of those French style croissants off a random plate and started walking around the house. It was big enough to provide some serious exercise if you wanted to walk through all the rooms.

The Manjoume Manor was all imported marble and European art, something that appealed to his Father’s sense of taste. And there were paintings.

There was one painting in particular that stood out – it was in the Library, it was huge, it was a special commission and it cost a fortune. It was of Chosaku and Shoji’s Mother, the late Manjoume Izumi that died too young and left Father a young widower and Chosaku and Shoji as orphans.

Manjoume took his croissant to the library, bit into it as he stared up at the portrait of a dead woman that he never met. His mother was in Berlin.

It was something that no one really talked about, but it was still lingering everywhere between them, haunting the halls of the estate just as much as it strained the relationship between them all.

As the Story went, Father married Izumi young, loved her dearly and had two sons with her. Unfortunately, she died young, so young that his brothers probably didn’t even remember her, and Father ended up remarrying sooner, rather than later. That’s where his Mother came into the picture.

As far as he knew, it was a very classic misalignment of wishes – Father wanted a young, pretty, empty headed trophy wife that didn’t ask for much, happy to plow through his credit cards and warm his bed and smile at his sons. Mother wanted a Great, Passionate Love he couldn’t give.

The portrait of Majoume Izumi showed a beautiful, elegant woman with delicate features, someone that never got angry, never frowned – He couldn’t help but compare her to his own mother, the one that ran half a world away because she couldn’t stand to live in this great looming shadow. He couldn’t blame her, it wasn’t easy to live that, always struggling to meet these arbitrary expectations.

He blamed her for the way she left, from the distance, for leaving him here – not for the reasons behind it.

Manjoume sat down in one of the plus chairs in the library, folded his legs beneath himself and started munching absentmindedly on his snack.

He wondered what Mother was doing, what painting she was working on, what she was listening to. Her painting studio was brightly lit and cluttered, always full of half painted canvases and tubes of paint, music always blaring. She kept chewed on Salty Licorice and ran wiped her hands on her jeans afterwards.

Manjoume thought about Judai too, distantly, about the way he came back to their room after his Art classes, about the way his charcoal dark fingers left marks on Manjoume’s notes. The face he made when he tasted licorice, how excited he got over the least exciting shit ever.

He wondered what Mother would think about Judai, he tried to imagine them interacting with each other. Mother would ask to see his sketches and drawings, she’d give him feedback. She’d weird artist stuff like _What Inspired This_ and _ahhh_ and _ohhhh_ at whatever silly shit Judai would say. She would purposefully buy mountains of weird German foods and snacks and unleash Judai upon them, because she always did love piling people with food. Judai would love it, he would soak in all the attention like a sponge.

Manjoume ended up at the rather unfortunate conclusion that the two of them would get along like a house on fire.

* * *

It was technically the first of January when Judai called him, even if it was only a couple hours after midnight.

“Why are you calling me this late?”

“ _D’aww, and here I thought you’d be happy to hear from me!_ ”

“I shouldn’t have answered you.” Manjoume was already in bed. He only answered because he had thought Judai must have been dying or something.

_“Jeez, Manjoume, why do you have to be like that? What if I was dying and you were the last person I wanted to talk to?”_

“Why would I be the last person you wanted to talk to?”

_“Maybe I wanted to hear your voice.”_

He felt his ears start burning.

“I’m going to hang up on you.” A laugh from the other end of the line. It sounded so close.

“ _Don’t, I just…_ ” there was a pause there, and Manjoume closed his eyes and thought about Judai, how he would grin at him and chuckle at him, scratch the back of his head and look at his legs, all embarrassed and amused.

“You can just say you missed basking in my presence.”

“ _Hahahaha, maybe I did. I was afraid that maybe you’d get cold feet. So I wanted to check-up on you.”_

“Why would I get cold feet?” Manjoume asked, his face red and his heart beating too quickly. He touched his neck on instinct.

“ _You know…”_ Judai was rarely bashful, but he thought he could _hear_ a blush forming on his face over the phone.

“Oh.”

He didn’t want to think about it, but it flashed in his mind – the kisses. Judai’s mouth sucking on his skin. Biting. Tongue pressed against his nipples.

He wanted to know if Judai was thinking about it too.

“ _Hey Manjoume_ \- ” Judai cut himself off. His voice was rougher now, and scratchier.

“Hmmm?” he didn’t trust himself to properly articulate words.

“ _Happy New Year_.”

“Tsk,” He huffed, “Happy New Year, Judai.”

“ _Are you doing that thing with your nose now? That things when you scrunch up your nose and huff like a little tsundere princess?_ ”

“I hope you break your neck, Judai.”

He hanged up on him while Judai’s laughter was coming through the phone. Manjoume wanted to be angry and petty, but he felt excitement coursing through him, a dizzy little bubble of raw pleasure.

Judai thought about it too.

* * *

It was the second week of January when Manjoume went back to the dorm, and this time Judai wasn’t there waiting for him.

“Judai?”

No answer.

The room was pretty much prestine and untouched, like it had been cleaned up and tidied while they were away. It also meant that Judai was nowhere to be found, because no way would this pristine atmosphere still be going on if Judai had gotten here sooner.

Manjoume dropped his bag on the floor and took off his coat, laid down on the bed. Put his head on the pillow. Closed his eyes. Inhale. Exhale.

Absolutely didn’t think about Judai.

(except that he thought about that things Judai had done to him in his bed, how it made him feel, he thought Judai kissing him)

They couldn’t do that again, could they?

It was painfully obvious how much of a bad idea it was, getting all tangled up in each other.

It was going to end poorly.

Manjoume sighed and resolved to address this with Judai when he got back – he was going to tell that idiot that no matter what, Manjoume couldn’t indulge in such frivolous activities as skipping school to make out again. Once was bad enough.

Making out was generally going to be forbidden, considering the fact it seemed like Manjoume’s self control and his anti-Judai barriers all evaporated while making out, and he let him do…. _Things._

Things that Manjoume would never allow him to do in his _right_ mind, he would never enjoy someone marking him all up like Judai had – the thought of it was humiliating and overly possessive, it made something quite like anger boil inside of him. (something quite like anger isn’t exactly anger, though, he told himself, but it was the most be had to work with)

Judai had this casual confidence that he was allowed to touch and claim things. Even when he wasn’t in the room, he still very much _was._ Comic books and posters and pens and markers and sketches, Manjoume’s half-eaten stack of candies, all of them pointed to Judai’s presence. The silence pointed to his absence, and Manjoume felt that silence acutely.

He wasn’t something Judai could _casually_ claim _._

Students weren’t all back yet, so the dorm wasn’t exactly a hustling and bustling beehive of activity. It was all sleepy and silent. Manjoume could walk around the grounds, he could take a nice a walk by the cliffs. He could read a book. Get himself a hot cocoa. Do something. _Anything_.

He turned on his side and buried his head in the pillow. If he tried really, really hard, he could suffocate himself with the pillow and then Judai would have to deal with his corpse when he came back to the dorm. That would serve him right – imagine the sheer, absolute gall of that little asshole, to leave Manjoume waiting for him.

Like Manjoume didn’t have _better things to do_.

Eventually, he dozed off, ended up sleeping for a couple of hours. When he woke up, he was groggy, confused and Judai was still not in the room with him.

At this point, it was already starting to get dark outside. Manjoume got up, yawned and stretched, and ran a hand through his hair. A stray thought went through his head – Judai was stupid, and empty-headed and careless. He missed all the deadlines, he was always running late. Manjoume was sure he wasn’t fully equipped to breathe, walk and chew gum at the same time.

It wasn’t that hard to imagine him crossing the street without looking on both sides, and then getting violently splattered by a truck. He was also a righteous and _heroic,_ like really, really poor man’s Peter Parker. What if he saw a little old lady getting mugged and got stabbed in the street?

There were so many options and possibilities, so many absolutely random accidents that could happen to Judai, because he was _that kind_ of person. He thought about what Judai said when he called him, how calling Manjoume if he were off dying somewhere, but if he _was_ off dying somewhere then Manjoume would really only find out long after the fact.

He paced, he worried, his stomach was flip-flopping. Another hour passed and Manjoume started to wonder if he was supposed to call Judai to see where he was. On the other hand, was it _weird_ to call? He didn’t want Judai to start thinking he was _actually_ worried about him.

Resolved set to ignore the thought of Judai completely, Manjoume kept glancing at his phone from time to time, to check how time was passing. It was already completely dark outside.

Then, another hour passed without Judai, and Manjoume caved in and finally called him. It went straight to voicemail.

Manjoume stared at his phone.

He tried calling again – once, twice, three times, four. No answer.

That settled it – either Judai was dead and in that case, good riddance. Manjoume’s flawless deductive skills had already pointed him to that conclusion.

If Judai wasn’t already dead, then he was ignoring Manjoume. Subsequently, he was going to end up dead because Manjoume would kill him.

* * *

Judai came back to their room in the middle of the night. He had snow in his hair and his eyelashes, his cheeks were red and he was radiating cold.

Manjoume felt his stomach drop at the sight of him, dizzy with relief. For one a couple of second, his throat tightened up and he had no idea what to say. Judai dropped his bag and crossed the room in three big steps, put his arms around Manjoume and hugged him despite the cold.

“What are you doing? Let go of me, let go of _me_. I’m so pissed at you right _now_.” Judai’s face was cold, his nose was almost frozen over, and he pressed his face in the crook of Manjoume’s shoulder, making goosebumps rise all over his skin

“Were you worried about me?” He felt Judai’s smirk against his skin.

“ _Tch_ , no.” But he ran his hand through Judai hair. The snow had melted and now his brown hair was dewy and wet. “I called _you_.”

“My phone died.” Judai looked at him with soft eyes. He grinned, all familiar and soft, “You _were_ worried.”

Manjoume didn’t say anything. Looked away from Judai and felt himself blushing. His hands fisted in the fabric of Judai’s red bomb jacket.

“Take this off, it’s all wet from the snow.”

Judai didn’t say anything, he looked at him with this strangely fond expression. He let got of Manjoume and took of his coat, sat on the edge of Manjoume’s bed and bent over to start unlacing his boots.

There were droplets of melted snow dripping from his hair, so Manjoume brought a towel from their small bathroom to drape it over his head. Judai grabbed him around the middle and pulled him a little closer, pressed his head against Manjoume’s stomach and nuzzled against him.

“I got on a later train than usual and I didn’t check what bus I was supposed get from the train station to here.” Judai explained with a sigh.

“You missed your bus from the train station to the dorm?” Judai nodded against him.

“Yeah, I missed it completely. It was the last one of the day, too.”

“ _Oh_ ”

“I had to walk.”

“You were _hours_ late – “ Manjoume was still feeling the remnants of anger smoldering again in his stomach, but Judai looked up at him with his knitted brow and smiling face and long, dark eyelashes.

“I got lost,” he admitted with a sheepish grin. “You were _so_ worried about me. ”Manjoume wanted to strangle him.

“You don’t deserve me being worried about you.” Manjoume scowled at him and in responde, Judai’s fingers quickly snuck under his sweater to press against his skin. “Fuck, you bastard, you’re so _cold._ ”

“Warm me up, then.” He grabbed Manjoume’s sides and pulled him cover his lap, p _ok_ ed below his ribs with cold fingers and made him squirm.

They ended up tangled up in each other, all elbows and knees and fingers and toes, both of them curled beneath Manjoume’s blanket. The twin bed was too small for them to have any sort of personal space between them, but it was… _fine._

Judai laced their fingers together and pressed his lips against Manjoume’s hand. He babbled about how cool winter holiday was, about the oden his Mom cooked, how they brought out the _kotatsu_ and ate together while Judai told her about school.

Manjoume closed his eyes and tried to imagine it - Judai babbling excitedly to his parent’s about school, Judai’s room, Judai sleeping sprawled against some crazy superhero themed sheets, Judai at home, and relaxed, a piece of him that Manjoume would never get to see for himself.

Judai, Judai, _Judai_.

Manjoume fell asleep to the sound of his voice.

* * *

They went to school together, studied together, Judai kept annoying him and Manjoume didn’t think that would ever change. He still took great pleasure in violently waking up Judai and ruining his morning sleep. All in all, it was pretty darn ordinary.

Just your ordinary, everyday, totally normal Boarding School Roommates.

Except they kissed sometimes.

They had been sitting next to each other, at a respectable distance away, when suddenly Judai reached over to him and grabbed his chin, turned Manjoume’s head towards him with gentle pressure. Judai kinda just _stared at him,_ gaze running between Manjoume’s eyes to his mouth.

“Stop staring at me like that” He wanted to sneer the words, but it came out stuttered and broken up. Judai grinned at him and Manjoume’s eyes were just drawn to his curved lips.

“Why? You’re staring too.” Majoume saw the tip of Judai’s pink tongue from between his teeth. Judai pressed his forehead against Manjoume’s. They noses were touching, the anticipation making him bite his lower lip.

Judai rubbed his thumb against the side of his jaw. He closed his eyes and sighed.

“Manjoume?”

“Hmm?”

“I’m going to kiss you now, alright?”

Judai’s mouth pressed against his, kissed him very gently and sweetly. He always did that – told Manjoume he was about to kiss him, asked for permission, started by pressing their lips together like he still wasn’t sure how he was supposed to do it. When Manjoume opened his mouth to allow him entrance, he deepened the kiss as if he were starving for it.

Manjoume thought Judai always started off so careful because if he kissed him as intensely as he wanted to, he would freak out. Which was fair, considering that Manjoume’s initial reaction whenever Judai reached out to touch him was sometimes still to flinch away from him. He wasn’t always sure how he was supposed to react to Judai, what he was supposed to do when Judai was so familiar, but made things between so overwhelmingly foreign.

It was always so easy for Judai’s fingers to slide underneath his shirt, whether he was just poking at his belly or moving upwards to explore his skin. This time around, Judai kissed him and kissed and kissed him, until it wasn’t enough anymore, until fingers started exploring again, until he started pulling at his shirt.

Manjoume was feeling…odd. Strangely charitable, overly fond, feeling like he wanted to indulge Judai. Normally he put on fuss when it came to undressing for Judai, but in this case, he made an exception. He went with it smoothly, raising his arms above his head and letting Judai undress him, laying down on the bed willing and arching his back so Judai could kiss his throat. 

Finding himself in this position wasn’t unheard of – sometimes he let Judai undress him, sometimes he let Judai kiss him a bit too much, sometimes, sometimes, _sometimes_ …

This time felt different.

Manjoume pulled Judai closer and initiated the next kiss, sucked on Judai’s tongue and bit his lower lip.

“Woah, what gotten into you today?” Judai asked, huge grin, breath labored. His mouth was red from kissing and his lips were wet, and instead of replying, Manjoume pulled him in again for another round.

This was the thing with Judai – he asked questions in the worst possible moments, he started talking, he wanted to know what Manjoume wanted. _Is this okay_ and _can I do this_ , _Can I do that_ and _Can I touch you there._

Sometimes he forced Manjoume to say things, because he just refused to budge until he had an answer. It was aggravating, because sometimes Manjoume just wanted him to do things without constantly having to leave the decision of it up to him. It felt embarrassing – he didn’t _want_ this to feel as good as it did.

Judai’s nails scraped against his nipple, and the pain-pleasure of him speared through him hotly. Manjoume moaned, arched, hips bucked. He pushed himself against Judai, threw his arms around his shoulders so he could hide his face in the crook of Judai’s neck.

His hips bucked on their own accord, Judai’s thigh was pushed against his crotch, he was chasing that ache that spread through him with each movement. His eyes were shut tightly against the sensation and he heard himself breathing heavily, open mouth against Judai’s skin.

“Manjoume, I….”

Why was he talking? What could he possibly have to say?

“Fuck, what do you want?” He was aware of how whiny and breathy his voice sounded.

Judai pulled away of Manjoume’s embrace and pinned one of his wrists against his bed. It stunned him, how swiftly he went from safely hiding in Judai’s embrace to being pushed on his back, Judai over him with his look in his eyes that was all hungry and heated and it did _things_ to him.

That should have been enough to stop him, but damn, it only made heat run through him. He was caught by Judai’s stare, hyperaware of his body, chest tight and heart pounding, lungs heavy.

“I want to touch you.” Judai said, all serious in a way that was ill fitting for his dimpled face, “I want to make you feel good.” And then he grinned his dopey Judai grin, even if his hand tightened its grip against Manjoume’s wrist.

“That’s…”

“Let me touch you…” and the hand that wasn’t pinning him down went straight between Manjoume’s legs, cupped him through his pants, and _yup_ , his heart most definitely exploded at that. “…here” Judai just kept his hand there, over Manjoume’s hard cock, and it was the struggled of a lifetime to for himself still and silent. Don’t moan, don’t whine, don’t move, don’t show him how much you want it.

Manjoume bit his tongue because if he didn’t, he wasn’t sure what would come out of his mouth.

“You don’t know how I like it.”

“That’s fine, you can just show me.”

“ _What_?”

“You can show me.” Judai repeated again, big eyes blinking innocently, like he had no idea why Manjoume was causing a fuss.

“Show you what, Judai?” He prided himself that he managed to sound offended and haughty as opposed to squeaky.

“How you like to touch yourself.” Judai bent his head and kissed the tip of Manjoume’s nose, and there was some special lack of self-awareness in how such an innocent gesture was preceded by a request as lewd as ‘show me how you touch yourself.’

Manjoume kept realizing he was underestimating Judai and the weirdness he was capable of.

“ _Why_?”

The other shrugged.

“Because I want to see it – I want to see how you like it. You know, for _research_.” Judai grinned, wide and happy and full of white teeth, “And I think it would hot.” Judai admitted. “Really hot. I think you’re.” A pause. “You _know_.”

Manjoume stared. Mouth dry, throat tight. He bit his lower lip, worrying it between his teeth, trying to make a decision. On one hand, he was sufficiently horny that he really, _really_ wanted some sort of relief to ease him out of it. On the other hand, was he truly horny enough to give into Judai’s request?

But Manjoume didn’t want to seem like he was hiding, he didn’t want Judai to think he was some sort of prude, didn’t want Judai to think he was ashamed of his body. None of that was true. Manjoume wanted Judai to realize that he wasn’t going to spook away from anything, godddamnit, there was no need for all the questions, all the discussions, all the _asking_. 

But maybe if Manjoume wanted Judai to be more confident, he had to show him that he was willing to push his own boundaries a little.

“Tch. _Fine_. Help me out of my pants.“

“No _way_. Really?” Judai looked at him as if Manjoume just told him he’s got free access to the candy stash.

“Not if you’re annoying,” He shot back, already feeling himself heat up. He reached down and opened his skinny jeans, sucked in air when he felt some of the pressure release off his dick. He wiggled his hips on the bed and raised his hips, “Help me take these off.”

Judai was, at the very least, obedient. He pulled the clothes of Manjoume with all the finesse of a four year old unwrapping his birthday presents. Manjoume ended up naked before he was fully aware of it. He swallowed thickly, his heart racing with both excitement and fear. The reality of being completely naked in front of another person didn’t have time to fully register, because Judai leaned over him and kissed him, wildly passionate and slightly uncoordinated.

Judai laid down next to him on the bed, pressed close, clothed body pressing against Manjoume’s skin, Judai’s fingers wrapping around his wrist and guiding his hand down to his dick. Manjoume gasped, instinct kicking in as he started to stroke himself while was peppering kisses over his cheeks, his jaw, his throat.

“Show me how you like it, ” Judai urged him on, voice all hungry and raw and hot, “God, _Jun_ , I want to see you come, I want…”

Judai’s grabbed him by his hair and turned his head to the side – it was a little on the rough side, but it made him moan. There was an edge of something there that was so arousing, a little desperation and a lot of fascination. Judai pulled him closer by his hair, pressed their foreheads together and just looked at him, eye contact intense and intimate and hypnotizing.

“You’re so hot, you’re so perfect.” This little bubble between them was all heat and breath and moans.

Judai was looking at him like Manjoume was the very center of the world, like Manjoume was the best damn thing he ever saw, like Manjoume was the everything he ever wanted. It made him aware of how Judai saw him, how much Judai wanted him, how much Manjoume wanted to be wanted. He never wanted someone to look at him like that before, but now he never wanted Judai to stop looking at him like that.

“Jun, Jun, _Jun_ , baby,” He loved how Judai sounded, how reverent and grateful and needy, “Show me how pretty you are when you come,” How he sounded like he needed Manjoume, like he was there to kiss him and hold and fall apart with him and keep him form unraveling at the seams.

“Judai, I…”

There was this new kind of edge to the of pleasure-pain of almost-orgasm, too intense. His throat was tight, his chest heaved, his lungs were all full of fire. Manjoume felt wildly reckless, excitement running through him like molten sugar, Judai’s kisses and his words and his closeness making the core of him vibrating.

“Come for me,” Judai pressed one fingertip against the oversensitive head of his cock, “Come on, baby, come for me.”

Manjoume’s whole body tightened and arched when he came, muscles spasming and soul shaking. It was like an out of body experience, and when he came back down to himself, it was in bits and pieces of awareness.

Judai was all pressed up against hims, open mouth panting against Manjoume’s sweaty shoulder, rubbing himself through his jeans and babbling things that only just now started making sense,

“Kiss me, touch me, Jun, _please_ , I…”

Judai took his hand – the hand that he had used to get himself off, the hand that had semen on its fingers, _that_ hand – and pressed it against his own clothed erection. Manjoume was absolutely not sure how he was supposed to handle that, considering he had never touched someone else’s dick before, but he gave it an experimental squeeze and Judai _moaned._

It was the single hottest sound that ever graced his ears.

Making Judai moan was right up there in terms of ‘best feeling ever’, a close second to Judai tell him how hot and perfect he was. He was suddenly so aware of this power that he had never considered, the power to turn Judai into a horny mess that looked at Manjoume as if he was birthday and Christmas and winning the lottery all rolled into one.

He didn’t even think about it when he opened Judai’s pants and pulled him out of his boxers. Manjoume stared at his own pale fingers as they wrapped themselves around Judai’s cock, hard and red with blood and shiny with pre-cum. He had no idea what he was doing, but Judai really didn’t seem to care as long as he was touching him, moaning and gasping and bucking his hips.

Suddenly, so many things started to make sense – all those movies and books and poems and songs that he knew, where characters were so overwhelmed with lust and passion that they did stupid things for the chance to see each other naked. It made sense to Manjoume, because he would also do just about anything to hang on to this feeling of power, of being needed and needing to see Judai break apart before him.

There was an open vulnerability one Judai face that was so alluring, Manjoume wanted to dive right into the heart of him and drown there.

But Manjoume wasn’t Judai, and didn’t want to babble about stupid, sappy shit – to keep his mouth occupied, he pressed his tongue against Judai’s, kissed each other all sloppy and wet and _lewd._

The angle was all wrong for him, he was pretty proficient at how to get himself, but it was a bit of a struggle to figure out what worked best for Judai. Still thought, at least the boy was vocal about what he liked, made all these fantastic noises that Manjoume wanted to swallow off his tongue. He realized Judai liked it when he twisted his hand a certain way, when his grip was tighter, when he rubbed his thumb roughly over the swollen head.

When Judai came, it was with a shout that probably echoed in the hallway outside. 

His face looked as if he fell from a great height directly into Manjoume’s awaiting arms, relaxing all at once and melting into the pillows. His eyes were closed and his lips were wet and slightly parted, soft puffs of air coming out from between them. Majoume started at him, transfixed, overwhelmed with this emotion that made his chest hurt and his stomach knot.

Then, Judai’s eyes blinked open, all sleepy and soft and content, he looked at Manjoume with this dopey little smile on his face. He was so goddamn cute.

“That was _so fun._ ”

“That’s one way to put it,” Manjoume snorted, eyes rolling at how _happy_ Judai sounded. He got poked in the ribs for his comment, but it was half-hearted, just like his attempt at cynicism. In truth, it had been fantastically fun and he bit his lip to stop himself from matching Judai silly grin.

They crawled out of bed to get each other cleaned up, taking turn to wash and change into pajamas. When it was time to get into bed, Judai grabbed his hand and pulled him towards his bed.

“Your bed has a wet spot.” He offered as an explanation, as he pulled Manjoume towards him and pulled the covers over both of them.

“And whose fault is that?” But Manjoume was grateful for the excuse.

The idea of squeezing each other into a small bed that was in no way designed for two people was… _not unappealing,_ while the idea of putting any amount of distance between their bodies was. They did this a lot, crawled into the same bed at the end of the day and argued about this and that before they fell asleep.

This time, it shouldn’t have been different, only it definitely _was_. They stood in the darkness together, looking at each other and pretending not to look at each other, until Judai caved and asked -

“Are you freaking out?”

“No.” A beat. “Are you?”

“No.” Manjoume sighed, feeling liked oddly relieved and unwilling to think about why that might be the case. “I like doing… _stuff_ with you. It’s fun. You’re just…” He heard the blush in Judai’s voice when he stopped himself from saying whatever it was he wanted to say. Instead, Judai reached for his hand and laced their fingers together.

He wondered what he was supposed to do now. Should he kiss Judai? Should he initiate a conversation? How were you supposed react after you and your roommate just made each other come?

It had all seemed so natural to touch Judai in heat of the moment, and there was nothing he regretted about it. Actually, he was very sure he wanted to do it again, lots of times, in different ways. Now that he tried it once, he wanted to try different techniques too.

There were all these thoughts in his head.

“Manjoume?” Judai bumped their heads together.

“Hmmm?” he closed his eyes and took a deep breath through his nose. Judai pressed a quick kiss to the side of his mouth.

“Good night, Manjoume.”

A chuckle. He squeezed their fingers. His chest felt warm.

“Good Night, Judai.”

  
***


End file.
